THE EXILED DRAGON POV : same day and time as THE HIDDEN DRAGON POV (CH3)
THE BLACK WOLF POV : three weeks after THE QUIET WOLF POV (CH2 part 2)
THE FISH-WOLF AND THE YOUNG DIREWOLF POV :two weeks after THE FISH WOLF POV (CH3)
THE QUIET WOLF POV : two weeks after THE QUIET WOLF POV (CH3)
THE HIDDEN DRAGON : two weeks after THE EXILED DRAGON POV (CH4)
THE STARRY WOLF: two weeks after THE BLACK WOLF POV (CH4)


The Exiled Dragon

Daenerys today was reading a book that she had bought from the bazaars of Pentos. The book spoke of the Valyrian conquest during its years. She was disgusted by reading that her ancestors had used slavery to create an empire such as Valyria. If she would have a member she would have vehemently proposed against it. Right now she was running across the hallways, lifting the edges of her red skirt and made way to her brother's solar. In front of the door she could see Viserys, dressed in black tunic and breeches, outside the door. She came and stood by him. Viserys pried the door open and the walked inside.

Inside they saw the familiar sight of their brother, but his hair had not been dyed and the silver-gold hair was proudly on display. Beside him stood a boy of her age, or around it.

"Daenerys, Viserys, meet my son by Lyanna Stark, Jaehaerys III Targaryen, the crown prince." Her brother said. She was shocked. Brother's son. Lyanna Stark. While Viserys had no doubt tried to sully the name of Lyanna Stark, calling her a whore and a slut, She could never bear to think her of like that. She knew her brother was not the one to take mistresses ot bed. The last name of the boy was enough to prove that. Her brother had married Lady Lyanna and she had given him a son.

"Uncle, Aunt, how are the both of you…." He asked. One glance at Viserys face told her that he was angry, after comprehending what her brother had said. She again looked at Jaehaerys Targaryen. He had the silver-gold hair of the Targaryens' and wine like eyes that any maiden would fall with. His eyes were literally the same shade of wine. He had lean but muscular body and his hair was tied back in a small pony. The fire of the brazier seemed to reflect off him, enveloping him in an unearthly pale shade. Jaehaerys Targaryen was beautiful.

"How… how dare you bring this bastard here. How can you give him the Targaryen name. You cannot just throw it around." Viserys stuttered, angrily. Rhaegar opened his mouth to speak but his newly found son cut him off.

"I think it would be good Uncle Viserys, if you do not try to imply that I am a bastard. It would indirectly imply that you see my mother as a mistress to my father. Ghost, and me don't like people criticizing my family." He said with a smirk. She didn't know the reason of his smirk until she heard a growl behind her. She whipped her head to see a unbelievably tall wolf, which came to her waist glaring at Viserys. The wolf had white hair, as white as the snow and he had red eyes the color of blood. In the fire though they looked like two frozen chips of fire. She gave a proper look at Viserys. He was totally scared of the wolf that moved in round circles around him. At the end Ghost stopped an inch front of him and snapped his jaws at Viserys face. For a moment she feared the worse, that the wolf had bitten her brother's face. But her brother was fine if not more pale that he actually was.

"Come here Ghost." Jaehaerys called. The wolf bound happily towards him. Ghost, so that was the name of this magnificent beast. Jaehaerys pushed his hand in the alabino fur of the wolf. The way he moved his hand she really thought if the fur was that soft.

"What…. what is that abomination doing here?" Viserys asked, his voice shaky.

"That is not an abomination, it is a direwolf. And he has a name, Ghost." Jaehaerys said, his eyes narrowing down on Viserys.

"Viserys, calm yourself, Ghost is a pet." Rhaegar said. The wolf came near to him and he scratched his ears. "Good boy, Ghost." Rhaegar muttered.

"He is a pet. A dog is a pet, a direwolf is a beast. He nearly bit my face off." Viserys said, springing to his feet.

"A dragon is also a beast, if it were here would you kill it?" Rhaegar asked.

"No….. no of course not. It's the sigil of our house, dragons belong to Valyrians." Viserys answered. He knew the pride he held for dragons, but she also knew what was going on here. They were using sigils to attack.

"You are wrong Viserys. Dragons don't belong, they live with Valyrians, as Direwolves live with the Starks and I'm am also a Stark as much as I am a Targaryen." Jaehaerys said, undermining Viserys.

"Anyhow, Daenerys, take Jaehaerys to his rooms, just opposite to yours. Jae take out your stuff and settle in your room, have lunch, if you want. Give Daenerys her present. Viserys stay here, I want to have a talk with you" Rhaegar said. Jaehaerys moved and stood by her side. The scent of pinewoods invaded her nose.

"Princess, please lead the way." Jaehaerys asked, his voice soft and sweet like honey. She opened the door and both Jaehaerys and Ghost followed her to his rooms. On their way she abruptly asked Jaehaerys about her gift. "Don't worry ñuha dārilaros, your gift is very apt and nice." He said, mixing the common tongue of Westeros with sweet valyrian of Valyria.

"Um this is your room," she said quietly, "and this is mine." she said gesturing to the room opposite to her.

"I, know that dārilaros. My father mentioned that your room would be my opposite." At his words, heat began to form in her neck. She mentally chided herself for that mistake. She turned around wanting to go in her room and bury her face in her pillows but his voice cut that thought away.

"Dārilaros." He said. She turned around at his words. "Would you like to have lunch with me?" He asked, sincerity coating his voice. She nodded at it. She stopped one of the going servants and told her to bring them lunch in his room. He then opened the door to the room.

His room like all the other rooms was very spacious with his own balcony. The floor was carpeted by a soft, Myrish rug, purple in color. The colors of the room were of different shades of green, red, blue and purple. She couldn't fail to notice that these were only the darker colors that were present. On one side was a study table with a chair, equipped with parchment and ink. There was a plush bed in the middle of the room stuck to the wall, with purple covers adorning it. There were braziers as expected, because all of her family in Pentos, liked the warmth more. The table was put in the balcony with two chairs on adjoining side. Ghost silently pawed his way through the carpet and made his home at the edge of the bed. Jaehaerys chuckled at it. She gave a curious look to him.

"He was the same in Winterfell. Curling at the edge of my bed." He explained to her non-asked question. But the answer gave rise to many more questions. He was raised at Winterfell, with Eddard Stark, the best friend of the usurper. She was shocked that the usurper didn't kill him and she wanted to know why? The servants entered the room and place the dishes at the table.

"Before we begin dārilaros you should have your gift. It was at great lengths that father went to procure this for you." Jaehaerys said. It really peaked her interest as to what Rhaegar had brought. He went and pulled the box up on his bed. He opened the latches only for her to find a mess of clothes. He cleared away the clothes and then she saw a sword inside it. The one which he had worn on himself was propped against the bed. She knew which sword it was as Rhaegar had told her about it. It was no surprise that Rhaegar had given the sword to Jaehaerys. The sword inside was another matter. The sheath was white in color which she could see in the edges, but was covered with dark leather. The leather was embossed with a red three headed dragon. Jaehaerys handed the blade to her. She handled the blade with care.

"Go on princess take out the blade." He urged.

"You know you can call me Daenerys." She said, and then she took out the blade. The blade was made of Valyrian steel, smoky in appearance, with ripples on its surface. The crossguard was made of gold designed in the shape of flames, with a ruby embedded in it, where it held the sword, while the hilt was was made of scaly black leather. The pommel of the sword was in the shape of flames. "What its name?"She ended up asking, staring wide-eyed at the blade.

"Dark Sister, wielded by Visenya Targaryen during the conquest." Jaehaerys answered. "And you can call me Jae." He added. She looked at him, wide-eyed, nodding frantically. Jae chuckled at it. But then she remembered that she didn't know how to wield a blade.

"You don't know how to wield a blade?" Jae asked, as if reading her thoughts. "Don't worry Daenerys, I can teach you, if you want." Jae said, offering his help. She hugged him tightly before she recognised what she had done. She immediately left his warm, soothing presence and had the decency to blush.

"Your welcome dārilaros, but I think we should eat our lunch now or it would get cold." He went there and took out her chair offering her to sit. She sat on it and the he sat on the exact opposite of her. They then helped themselves to lunch.

The Black Wolf

Benjen Stark was back at the Wall, in Castle Black serving as their first ranger. Life for him had never been easy. The last son of Lord Rickard Stark, Benjen's birth had led the mother of the Stark children to death. None of them had blamed him for it as Cersei Lannister hated her dwarf brother Tyrion Lannister, for getting her mother killed. Lyanna had been a constant mother for a major part of his childhood.

Tyrion Lannister, had so politely asked him to accompany him to the wall, because he wanted to piss at the edge of the known world. Tyrion's company was never boring for him, due to Tyrion being such a quick-witted person, he could not match, no, no one could match Tyrion Lannister at the game of words. He was not sure as to why Tywin Lannister hated his dwarf son because he could win over any man at the battle of words.

Lyanna's name brought forward the name of Jon in his mind. He had always loved Jon, probably because no one other that Ned or his children did. He was half with worry when he couldn't find Jon's faithful steed Shadow. Ned had immediately called for a search party to search the Wolf's Wood and sent raven to all the houses towards the wall or the Sea to the east. He knew, almost, that Jon would go on and beckon his search for his family. So it was with a heavy heart that Benjen walked across towards Maester Aemon's chambers to inform that he had a nephew born from the holy union of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark and that he didn't where he was or how he was.

He walked up to the chambers of Maester Aemon. He knocked and was greeted by Chett who guided him inside to the maester's solar. Maester Aemon's solar was bare, but the heat inside the solar was a lot. It reminded him of Jon's room. The dragon's blood.

"Chett, please move outside. I need to talk to the maester. Alone." He said, emphasising on 'Alone'. Chett moved out and gave him full need to talk to the maester. Gods, Lyanna, give me courage for what I am going to do. "Maester I need to talk to you about your family."

"My family is the Nights Watch, Benjen Stark." Aemon said, voice soft.

"Maester, i am going to uncover a secret that only three people in the whole world know about. Your great-grand nephew, Rhaegar had a son with my sister Lyanna. She named him Jaehaerys III Targaryen. He is alive. He ran away to Pentos to meet his Aunt and Uncle. I made a promise to tell no one about this but you are his blood. You need to know." He said grasping the wizened man's arms. His arms were a bit hotter than normal, but he had grown accustomed to it. When he looked at the old man's face he could not see any amount of love or tension in it. He knew it. Gods.

"I know it Benjen Stark. He came to visit. He looks like a Targaryen now. Before you ask, it is the blood of Old Valyriathat distorted his appearance when he was born. No man except those of Baratheon blood have defeated the Targaryen features. Your nephew was no exception." Aemon said, his voice somber. That is why they could not find Jon, he looked like a Valyrian each passing day. " I need to tell you one more secret though Benjen Stark, one you cannot tell to anyone for your life." Aemon said. He looked at him, his eyes pleading to maester Aemon to tell him. But the Maester asked him a question. "What are words of your house young Stark?" The maester asked. He did not know why he asked because a maester usually knew the word of every important house, yet he still answered.

"Winter is Coming. Maester. Those are the words."

"Aye, Benjen Stark, Winter is Coming and you know what comes with them. After all every child of Westeros is told about the Long Night." Aemon said. His voice was shaky. No the Maester certainly could not mean that. He could not mean about the grumpkins and snarks beyond the wall. He stood and walked himself out of the Maesters chambers, his mind focusing on the words that the maester had said. Winter is Coming and the dead come with it. That was the unofficial thing that he had said. He remembered the stories that Old Nan had told him when he was young. He walked to the courtyard where there was a commotion brewing. He had half a mind to shout for everyone to get back to positions until he saw who had come. He pushed his way to the front of his crowd and their eyes met.

"B...Brandon." He stuttered as a plea. The Boy in front of him was fifteen years of age and looked so much like Brandon, his brother. The same face, the same hair, hell even the stocky body Brandon had seemed to go to this child. But the eyes, they were different. The were violet, like the ones possessed by House Dayne. This child was Brandon's no doubt to that, but the mother was Ashara Dayne, the dornish beauty that had captured Brandon's heart. He was not sure but that's what he speculated.

"Benjen Stark." the boy said in his southern accent. "I am Arthur Sand, the son of Ashara Dayne and your brother, Brandon Stark." The boy, no Arthur, confirmed his speculation. With those words his whole world came crashing down.

The Fish-Wolf and The Young Direwolf

Catelyn Stark sat near the headpost of her son Bran's bed. She was weaving a seven pointed star that she could put on the bed of her son, to make sure that the gods would protect her son and bring him back to her. Night had already fallen today and she could hear the howls of the direwolves. She had never liked the direwolves, for they were beasts and not pets but her children taken fabulously to the small pups. During the whole of her stay none of the direwolves had bitten a man, or caused harm to someone. They had grown very fast too the eldest, Grey Wind, which belonged to Robb already reaching above Robb's waist. Summer, Bran's direwolf that they had named him, was nowhere to be seen not since the past week. She didn't know where he was but Robb had many a times said that he would no man until they harmed him. That he was tamed and would come back. She heard the doors creak and open and in entered Maester Luwin.

The maester of Winterfell was a supporting one and a knowledgeable one. Maester Luwin was a old grey man with grey eyes and thinning grey hair, wearing a woollen grey robe. The Maester wore so much grey that it was impossible to recognize him in the night near the walls of Winterfell, for they too were grey. His Maester's chain comprised of many links, one of them being a Valyrian link signifying his studies in the higher mysteries.

He bowed to her and entered the room, his heavy steps resonating in her ears and hi chain rattling. He came and stood near Bran running his hands through Bran's auburn locks. "It's time you review the accounts my lady." Luwin said, placing his hands in front of him. "You want to know how much this royal visit cost us." She did, she really did, after all she had held the household of Winterfell ever since she had come here, but she couldn't because she had a duty to look over after Bran.

"Talk to Poole about it." She said half-heartedly. She continued stitching the star.

"Poole went south with Lord Stark my lady." Luwin said. She looked at him telling him to tell it was wrong but it was not. "We need a new Steward and there are several other appointments that require our…."

"I don't care." She cut him off. She heard the thuds of boots and a voice cut in.

"I'll make the appointments." Robb's voice cut in. Both of them turned their heads towards him. "We'll talk about it first thing in the morning." Robb said promising Maester Luwin.

"Very good my lord." Luwin said. "My lady." he said reverently and then left the room to her and Robb. Robb walked in the first thing he did was to open the windows, making the howling, cold wind inside the room. With the wind the howls of the direwolves and the barks of the dogs grew prominent.

"When was the last time you left this room, apart from going with me to the crypts." Robb asked her rhetorically.

"I've to take care of him." She said, her hands still working.

"He's not going to die mother." Robb reprimanded her. "Maester Luwin says that the most dangerous time has passed."

"What if he's wrong." She said abruptly. "Bran needs me."

"Rickon needs you. He's three. He doesn't know what's going around here. He follows me around all day, clutching my leg. Crying." Robb snapped at her. The howling of the wolves had grown too loud for her to bear.

" Close the window. I can't stand it. Please make them stop" She told him unable to bear it, her voice thick as the tears that threatened her eyes.

"Fire." Robb said. She snapped her head at him. "You stay her I'll come back." Robb rabn towards the source of the fire. Unable to believe what she heard she stood up and went towards the window. There was a fire, in the library of Winterfell. The emergency bells were tolling. She turned back towards the door instead she saw a man.

The man was wearing a worn out black cloak with a hood covering his face. "Your not supposed to be 'ere. No one supposed to be 'ere." He cast a glance at Bran. faer covered her mind. "It's a mercy, he is dead already." The man said, as he took out a dagger. He moved towards and Bran and worst came to her mind.

"No." she shouted as she lunged at the man. The man retaliated with a backhand slap at her face. The taste of iron entered her mouth. Black spots began to dance in front of her eyes. The man clutched her hair and pulled at her holding the blade to her throat. She grabbed at the steel with her bare palms. The steel bit into her palm procuring torrents of blood from her palms, coating her finger and wrists and the blade. The man didn't yield and inch as she slammed him into the wardrobe using the bed as a method to gain momentum. She then bit into the palm of the cutthroat, filling her mouth with the metallic taste of blood. The cutthroat's blood. The cutthroat yelled as as she bit him. He quickly pushed her away her head hitting the chair as blackness took over her.


Robb ran towards the library exiting the Great Keep. he had already sent of Rickon to his room before going to meet his mother. He ran across the courtyard giving a loud whistle. Grey Wind and Shaggydog came to meet him.

"Shaggy, go keep Mother and Bran safe, Grey Wind with me." Shaggydog ran towards the Great Kepp and reached it in a matter of seconds. The keep was almost halfway at a distance from where he stood. He looked at Grey Wind and read the wolf's thoughts from his eyes. Though most consider it absurd, Robb always knew what the wolf was feeling or what he wanted.

"You want me to ride you." Robb asked him. The wolf just bobbed its head. He smiled at the thought even in this grim situation. He had always wanted to ride Grey Wind but he had thought the wolf couldn't handle his weight but here he was getting an invitation from him and he very couldn't deny a direwolf. Grey Wind sat on its haunches and he slipped comfortable on him between the blades of his forelimbs and grabbed a fistful of his fur. Grey Wind then launched himself towards the library tower and they reached in a matter of seconds. He could see the shocked looks of the people as he dismounted from Grey Wind's back.

"What are you staring at put off the fire." He shouted at the people. The people started moving grabbing buckets of water and throwing it on the fire. He helped the people in putting of the fire. After he was certain that the fire had diminished and the people could put it off he again climbed on Grey Wind's back and set off towards the Great Keep.

He launched himself up the stairs as soon as he got to the keep towards Bran's room. When he entered the room it was a mess. His mother was lying on the ground knocked out, while there was another man, with a knife in his hands, laying beside Bran's bed. The man's throat had been bitten by Shaggydog, who was sitting on his haunches tears leaking from his eyes. At first he couldn't connect the dots, but when he did tears were leaking profusely from his eyes.

"B…..Bran" He said, his voice thick with emotion. He walked towards him. There was blood pouring from Bran's throat. He could not bear to see it, his eyes blurring from the tears.

"Why? Why? Why? Why?" He shouted at the ceiling. "What did Bran do to you. To anyone." By the end of it he had broken into sobs. Grey Wind came and nuzzled himself in the crook of hi neck, offering him comforting presence. He hugged Grey Wind and blackness overtook him and he knew no more.


She woke to the blinding sunlight, that made her want to close her eyes again but closing her eyes meant the dreams of the man, that cutthroat, that had killed her son. She knew it before anyone woke her up and told her, her motherly instincts knew about it. She wanted to deny it, she wanted to deny that her Bran had been killed. He beautiful boy had been robbed of his dreams of becoming like Ser Arthur, when he fell, now her boy was so far away from her, that only death could bring them close.

No child wanted to bury her mother, but no mother wanted to bury her child but she had to. She had to bury her beautiful boy. She couldn't do it but she opened her eyes and was met with the same blue eyes of her eldest, Robb.

"Mother….." Was all he said before he buried himself at the crook of her neck. She wrapped her arms around him, her hand with which she held the dagger still paining. Robb eased himself out of her arms.

"Mother, I went to the broken tower, to the window from which Bran allegedly fell. I found clumps of hair there, Mother." He said, his voice broken. "Lannister hair. Bran was pushed, Mother. The Lannister's want war mother, I shall give it to them. They have spilled Stark blood."

"My lord, I would advise against it. We have no proof that it was the Lannister who threw your brother and it was the Lannister's who paid the cutthroat to kill your brother." Maester Luwin's kind voice advised Robb. She could feel his hands tense where she held him.

"But no ordinary, person sent that cutthroat. The dagger is valyrian steel, the hilt dragonbone." Ser Rodrik's firm voice spoke. She hadn't seen him too. She had only seen Robb. "Someone rich had paid him off."

"We will go to war, and I'll stand behind you Robb." Theon Greyjoy's voice spoke. She just wondered how many more people were there.

"Where will you go to war, in here, the Maester's turret." Luwin admonished him.

"No, Robb, stay here, there must always be a Stark in Winterfell. I will go to Kings Landing and tell Lord Stark of what had transpired here. I'll tell him what our notions are." She said with firmness, in her voice. She needed to see Ned, needed to tell him what had happened.

"No mother. You cannot. Not possibly in such a state." Robb argued.

"No Robb it must be me who has to go. You have your duty in Winterfell. I'll leave in three days after Bran's burial." She said, her decision final.

"My lady, at least take me with you. The Kingsroad is not a safe place for a lady such as you. Let me be there to protect you." Ser Rodrik protested.

"Fine, Ser Rodrik. You will go with me." She said as she stood up and went to resume to her duties again. First she would go to Bran and then she would avenge him.

The Quiet Wolf

Even before he arrived at King's Landing he could smell the shit, the piss, and all the other awful smells that had accompanied it. He could see the red towers of the Red Keep rise in the distance. The Red Keep was made by the, Maegor the Cruel, and he had killed all the workers who had made the keep, so no one could discern its secrets. They were walking along the Kingsroad, which ended up leading them to the Dragon Gate. Arya and Sansa both were on their ponies, beside Jory. He had never trusted anyone except his guards from the North. Sansa, who he never thought would ride a horse, was now riding a horse as good as a mediocre. That had shocked him. What had shocked him even more was that, she was wearing something akin to breeches that she had sew herself and a gown cut on the sides to allow her to ride better. Riding is in Stark blood. She was even more jovial towards Arya, though he suspected that was after Lady and Nymeria had been handed a death sentence.

They entered through the Dragon Gate trotting up to the broken ruins of the Dragonpit. All the men that had been in been eyeing the massive structure with dread. The legendary place that held the dragons of house Targaryen until they had wiped out after the Dance of Dragons. The Dragonpit was a mammoth ruin, made of blackened iron or bronze no one knew. Before the Dragonpit a sept had been made on Rhaenys' Hill, the Sept of Remembrance. Maegor the Cruel had destroyed the sept during the rise of the Faith Militant. They came across the doors of the Dragonpit. It was said that thirty knights could ride abreast into the pit without any resistance.

In a distance he could see the Great Sept of Baelor, made by the Septon-King Baelor I Targaryen, called Baelor the Blessed or Baelor the Beloved. The Sept of Baelor was made on Visenya's Hill surrounded by white marble plaza. He could easily see the statue of Baelor, on his plinth. Large gardens surrounded the sept. he could see the massive marble domed structure with seven large towers surrounding it. Each tower contained a bell which were rung at different times. Even though Robert has removed almost all Targaryens, their massive structures still live. It was almost as if the structures were taunting Robert saying, 'No matter you have removed the Targaryens', we are still here, reminding you that this belonged to the Targaryens' and no one else is fit for it.' They walked down from the Dragonpit towards the Guildhall of the Alchemists, made of black marble. His head throbbed at walking at the head of his party, the summer sun beating on his back. He remembered the stares he had gotten after the Sack of King's Landing. The accusing stares, he could still see them. He shook his head attempting to clear his head of such thoughts. Soon they entered the gates of the Red Keep, he could see the Baratheon banners, the Black crowned Stag on a gold field, flowing everywhere. He dismounted from his horse and saw a young acolyte speedily walking towards his direction.

"Welcome Lord Stark." The acolyte said bowing his head. "Grand Maester Pycelle has requested a meeting of the small council at the honor of your presence." The acolyte informed. He looked at Septa Mordane and Jory.

"Get girls settled in. I'll be back in time for supper. " The septa nodded her head at it. "And Jory go with them." He looked back at acolyte.

"If you'd like to change into something more appropriate." The acolyte said. Something more appropriate. Was this not enough. He took off his gloves and saw the young acolyte's eyes betray worry. The acolyte turned and walked towards the throne room, in whose antechambers the Small council would convene. He followed the acolyte to the throne room.

Once he arrived, the oak and bronze doors were opened by the two gold cloaks flanking it. A long carpet was stretched straight from the door to the foot of the monstrosity called the Iron Throne. The Throne was supposedly made from the the thousand swords that Aegon the Conqueror had won in all his wars. The throne contained of numerous twisted swords, melted swords, oddly bent ones. That throne was truly a monstrosity. What did Aegon the Conqueror say, Only the worthy may truly find a seat on that throne. The pale red stone of the red keep was embossed with the three-headed dragon of house Targaryen. Another relic. But all of that was not what drew his eye. What drew his eye was the sitting form of Ser Jaime, with his white Kingsguard Armor, with the white cloak on his shoulders. If he would have been in Robert's place, the Kingslayer would not be here, he would be at the wall. Yet he was here.

"Thank the gods you are here Stark. About time we had some stern northern leadership." He could see the Kingslayer's smirk as he stood up, hand on the pommel of his sword.

"Glad to see your protecting the throne." he said, wanting to remind the Kingslayer of his crimes.

"A sturdy old thing. I wonder how many Kings' arses have polished it, and what's the line,... 'The King shits and the Hand wipes.'" The Kingslayer said, mockingly.

"Very nice armor. Not a scratch on it." He said. The Kingslayer seemed to inspect his armor before answering him.

"I know. People have been swinging it at me for years but the always seem to miss." The mocking still didn't evade him.

"You've chosen your opponents wisely then." He said. The Kingslayer just nodded and then he spoke.

"I've knack for it." There was a tense silence for a few seconds. "Must be strange for you. Coming into this room." Aye, he had to admit. It was strange. This was where his nephew's brother and sister were presented. This was where his brother and father were killed. The Kingslayer, just looked at ground below him. "I'm standing right here, where it happened. He was very brave your brother. Your father too. He didn't deserve to die like that. Nobody deserves to die like that." Yes he was brave, but it was the wolf's blood in him. Brandon Stark, the better one, the handsome one. All of them used to say that. The Wild Wolf, people of the north had crowned him, just as he was called The Quiet Wolf. He was right, nobody deserved to die like that. It was because of the false abduction of his sister and the inhumane killing of Lord Rickard Stark and his heir Brandon Stark that had made the north join the rebellion.

"You just stood there and watched." He said, voice filled with scorn.

"Five hundred people just stood there and watched. All the great knights of the seven kingdoms, you think anyone said a word, lifted a finger. No one Stark. Five hundred men stood there and watched and this room was as silent as a crypt." The Kingslayer corrected. "Except for the screams of course." Even the death of his Father and Brother was a jape to this man. He could not have his mood soured anymore. "The Mad King laughed, and then when I shoved by sword in his back, I remembered him laughing as he burned your father and strangled your brother to death, it felt like justice."

He couldn't discern the man in front of him of him right now. Anger was boiling inside him in palpable waves. "Is that what you tell yourself when you sleep at night. That you are a servant of justice. That you were avenging my father when you shoved your sword through Aerys Targaryen's back." The Kingslayers face had lost a bit of color at the words, he could see it. But he also knew that the knight in front of hi would reply with some jape. And he did.

"Would you like me better if I had shoved my sword in his belly?" The Kingslayer asked.

"You served him well. When serving was safe." He said. When he looked at his face he could see the momentary loss of words on his face. He just walked past him to the antechamber where the council would convene.

The antechamber connected to the throne room was a one lit only by the various candles placed. There was little sunlight entering but enough that the room was properly lit. A pair of valyrian sphinxes were placed on either side. There was a large table in the middle of the room, elaborately carved, stuck to the ground with a three headed dragon embossed on it. Two throne like chairs were placed on either head, one being smaller. One could easily understand which chair was for which person. The other six chairs were placed on either side, three and three, but only a total of four people occupied the chairs.

"Lord Stark." one of them spoke. He was bald, and wore rich silks the color of plum and soft slippers. The scent of lavender entered his nose. Both his hands were outstretched to greet him. This could only be Lord Varys, the Master of Whisperers.

"Lord Varys." he greeted him, Stoic, shaking his hand.

"I was grievously sorry for your trouble on the Kings Road. we are all praying for Prince Joffrey's recovery." Varys said, gesturing to the other council members.

"Shame you didn't send prayer for the butcher's son." he moved before he could look on the shock that covered Varys' face. The spotted Renly amongst them. Renly wasn't hard to spot, with the Baratheon black hair and blue eyes. Renly had been appointed Robert's Master of Laws.

"Renly." He greeted the boy with a hug. "You look well." He clapped his back.

"And you look tired from the road. I told them this meeting could wait but-"

"But we have a kingdom to look after." Another voice cut in. He looked at the man. He was short in build, with a pointed chin which had a small pointed beard. He had dark hair, with streaks of grey running between them. He had grey-green eyes, like a cat. The most important was the mockingbird clasp on the cloak. This man could only be Petyr Baelish, or Littlefinger as most called him. "I've waited for a long time to meet you Lord Stark. No doubt Lady Catelyn has mentioned me."

"She has Lord Baelish." He said, as he took off his cloak. "I assume you knew my brother Brandon as well."

"Oh too well. I still carry a token of his esteem. From navel to collarbone." He said gesturing to the place where Brandon had cut him.

"Perhaps you should chose a wrong man duel with." he said in good humor.

"Oh it wasn't the man I chose. It was Catelyn Tully. A woman worth fighting for I am sure you'll agree." Baelish said a full blown smirk on his face. Oh how he wanted to wipe it off now.

"I humbly beg your pardon my Lord Stark." Maester Pycelle said.

"Grand Maester." He acknowledged. The wizened man nodded at it.

"How many years has it been. You were a young man." Pycelle said.

"And you served a different king." he stated. The was a loss of words for a moment before Pycelle reached into his folds.

"Oh how forgetful of me. This belong to you now." Pycelle stated, handing him the Hands clasp. "Should we begin." All the present council members took their seats.

"Without the King?" He asked them.

"Winter may be coming but the same cannot be said about my brother." Renly said.

"His grace has may cares. He entrusts some small matters to us that we might lighten the load." Varys said, adding on to Renly.

"We are the Lords of Small Matters." Baelish japed. Renly presented him a scroll, which he took and opened, while he sat on his chair.

" By brother instructs to stage a tourney, in honor of Lord Stark appointment as Hand of the King." Renly stated.

"Mmmm… How Much?" Baelish asked.

"Forty thousand gold dragons to the champion. Twenty thousand to the runner up. Twenty thousand to the winning archer." He answered Baelish's question.

"Can the treasury afford such expenses?" Pycelle asked.

"I'll have to borrow from the Lannisters. We already owe them three million gold dragons what's another eighty thousand." Baelish said. Three million. No that wasn't possible. Aerys Targaryen left a full treasury at the end of his reign.

"Are you telling me the crown is three million in debt." He said, surprise.

"I'm telling you the crown is six million in debt." Baelish said.

"How could you let this happen." He asked the council members.

"The Master of Coin finds the money. The King and the Hand spend it." Baelish said.

"I cannot believe Jon Arryn allowed Robert to bankrupt the realm." He said heatedly.

"Lord Arryn gave wise and prudent advice, but I fear His Grace doesn't always listen to it." Pycelle said.

"Counting coppers he calls it." Renly said.

"I'll speak to him tomorrow. This tourney is an extravagance we cannot afford." H said.

"As it is, but we best make plans." Baelish said.

"There will be no plans. Until I speak to Robert." He shot back, loud and clear. He looked at the face of his Lords. Oh dammit what had he done. He held his face in his hands. "Forgive me my Lords. I had a long ride."

"You are the Kings Hand Lord Stark. We serve at your pleasure." Varys said.

"Very well my Lords, I believe that this council session is at an end." He said. All of them Stood up and walked out from the antechamber leaving only him and his thoughts.

The Hidden Dragon

In the first few days he had roamed most of Illyrio's big manse. He had also kept some distance with Viserys spending more times with Daenerys. He and Daenerys had grown into quick friends, with him being able to play the harp and she being able to sing they had become minstrels for most of their part. They had spent a lot of time singing underneath the trees and more than once he had had a fluttering feeling in his belly. Daenerys was certainly very pleasant to look at. They even shared a lot of common features, such as their nose, the slant of their eyebrows, shape of their lips, their high cheekbones. Even the color of their hair was similar, a silver-gold, like his father and grandmother. They shared a lot of their lives. She sharing how she lived in Braavos with old Ser Willem Darry, how viserys was good at first but grew more cruel after he sold their mother's crown. She had even told him how the ring she wore was the last relic of her mother. He in turn told her of how he lived in Winterfell. He still remembered their conversation.

"You told me how you lived in Winterfell, with Lord Stark. How come the Usurper didn't kill you." She asked, him curiosity shining in her eyes.

"Daenerys, have you heard that the Valyrian's possessed magic in their veins?" He asked her, in return. She just nodded in return. "Well when I was born, i had the features that you see now, but when I lived in Winterfell, I lived another life. I lived the life of a bastard named Jon Snow. My dragon's blood was still there, but I looked like a Stark. The magic in veins made me look like a Stark, so Lord Stark claimed me as his own bastard. To save his nephew he allowed a stain on his honor."

Daenerys had been shocked at first, after hearing about magic and all but I just told her to ask to ask my father about it. When father had affirmed it she had looked like she had seen a ghost.

Ghost had also taken a liking to her, the direwolf never left her side until he thought she was safe. The very first night of when he had come to the manse Ghost had already snuck into her room and slept on her bed. In the morning when he had found out what had happened he was both angry and happy. Angry because Ghost had not been with him and happy because Ghost had found another friend in Daenerys. He had told her about Winterfell, every small detail he could remember. The walls, the other direwolves, the heart tree. He also told her that Winterfell was made atop hot springs, which continuously pumped water into the walls. He also told her that how Robb and he would go take a dip in the Hot Springs and could stay there for how many minutes. He of course had emerged victorious always.

After he had given her Dark Sister, she wanted to train how to use a sword. She had also shown him a Valyrian steel dagger that Viserys had gotten for her, well she had forced Viserys to get it for her. They had started to train with blunted swords, heavier than Dark Sister and Blackfyre, so they could use their swords easily in real battle. One day Viserys had stopped their training presenting himself as a better swordsman than him. He remembered that day very nicely.

He and Dany, as Daenerys had allowed him to call her, were practicing in the courtyard. Well he was teaching Dany how to use a sword sok she could use Dark Sister. Dany, as she had no tunics or breeches of her own was wearing his that he had given her.

Left. Right. Slash .Stab, and the routine continued. Most of the times he had hit Dany but she had not made the same mistake twice. She was a fast learner he had to admit that. Many times she was covered up with small red marks on her arms and legs but he had assured that they would fade within the next day or so. He was pretty use to giving her massages, because he knew that the muscles hurt a lot after a practice, he had never gotten massages but when he saw Robb get one he had quickly learned. Many times even Robb had come to give him massages and he knew how soothing it felt.

Giving her a massage was one thing, but feeling her as her skin molded underneath his fingers was another matter at all. Her moans of how good he was didn't help at all. He knew that shouldn't have been thinking those thoughts . By the gods she was his Aunt, but he also knew about the incestuos relationships of his ancestors. Little helped him after he had seen her in that gown which she had worn, flaunting her curves. He had been awestruck at that moment, mouth agape. She laughed at his expense and he had the decency to blush at that.

Right now, he could see through the periphery of his eyes, Viserys was coming towards them wearing a haughty expression on his face.

"Dear Sister, why do you learn from him? I could teach you better." Viserys said, sneering at him all the while. Dany started to say something but he cut him to it.

"Well Viserys, Daenerys wants to learn from me, she asked me for my help. Did you not Daenerys?" I said to both Viserys and Daenerys respectively. Dany just nodded at it, meekly, as if she was afraid she would anger Viserys.

"We'll fight then. Whoever wins, will teach Daenerys." Viserys said, drawing out his sword. I went and picked up Blackfyre from the side. Blackfyre had a crossguard made of silver, with dragons on the end, the hilt had black scaly leather, and the pommel had a red ruby cut in the shape of a kite. The blade itself was longer than Viserys' longsword, due to it being a bastard sword. He took out the blade and approached Viserys. He could see Viserys' face pale a bit. Regular steel never fared well against valyrian steel and valyrian steel cut sharper.

He took his stance while Viserys took his. Viserys whole stance was a pity to be looked at. Sword arm drooped, legs place very closely. Viserys attacked first, and went straight to strike. He sidestepped his attack. He again attacked him, swinging wildly, he ducked at it. He could see Viserys' face red in anger the huffs' of his breath evident. This time he attacked slashing his sword in a downward arc. Viserys' brought up his blade but Blackfyre cut through it like knife through hot butter. The broken part of the sword clanged on the ground and he walked away to put the sword back in its sheath. He didn't wait to see Viserys' shocked face.

Since that day Viserys' had never troubled them. Dany had come and hugged him that day and he very well welcomed it. She had thanked him for what he had done and that Viserys would never come and trouble her from that day until he was there. Since then he had never strayed away from Dany, always being present with her, and more than once he had found himself staring at her, admiring her strength. He had grown to like Daenerys Targaryen a lot and no one would harm her till he was here.

Today he was teaching Dany how to wield a dagger. Today was the last day they were going to spend in Pentos because father had wanted them to move as fast as we can to Volantis. In Volantis they would buy a sellsword company and make their move towards Westeros, where they were sure to have the support of many great houses.

"Come on Dany, arms a bit wide on your side, knees shoulder apart, back straight. Yes just like this, now hold on for a while." He said as he instructed Dany. "Good, just like this, now swipe your dagger at the throat in a upward arc." Dany siped just like that. "Good, now one last thing before you have your massage."

"What. No. You said this was the last thing of today. And anyway my arms and legs are hurting." She grumbled.

"You don't have to use anything. Just watch." He said. He went and brought out the straw dummy that he placed an armor on. He picked up a dagger that was lying on the table. "A dagger doesn't have much of a reach so you must know the pressure points were by striking you can make them bleed fast or give an instant kill. The first is the throat, the second the eye, third the belly. If you land a strike at these places the person will die if he doesn't receive medical help soon. The most favoured is the throat, because people wear armor and that protects the belly." He instructed to her pointing at the various places. "This begins your massage time." He said. Dany liked, no loved massages. She was always giddy at it. He himself couldn't help himself at giving herself massages, well he got to see a bit of more skin at it. Not the privates of course. She went into the bathroom, changed into her daily massage clothes, came and laid down on my bed.

The started to press his fingers to the major pressure points of her arms and her back. Soon he started to get her appreciative responses. He moved his hands to her calves and kneaded the soft muscle underneath them. Her muscles were developing a definite shape after two weeks of practice with sword and dagger alike. Soon he could feel her body relax into the covers as if she was going to sleep here. He quickly caught on to it, she was almost going to sleep here.

"Dany you can't sleep here." he said as he poked his fingers at her ribs.

"Why not?" she asked, mumbling, her voice tired.

"Because people will talk if they see us in one bed." he said.

"Who will. The servants don't talk." She said draping herself over one side of the bed.

"Fine, the servants don't talk, but what if father sees us like this in the morning if when comes to wake us up." he argued.

"Rhaegar, won't to anything Jae, just come and sleep. If he does talk, I'll tell him I was tired and I fell asleep."

"Fine." He grumbled. He took off his tunic and wore a thin shirt. He then went to the other side of the bed and made himself comfortable over there. He soon fell into a dream.

He was in a castle. The castle was smaller that Winterfell and was made of pale red stone instead of the grey stone. He had never been to castle such as this before, but still it felt familiar. He could see the three headed dragon embossed on many a tiles of this keep. When he looked outside the window he saw the massive Dragonpit. Then all of it clicked. This was the Red Keep. He walked fast in the hallway until he reached a oak and bronze door. He pushed the door to dee the Great Hall. in front of him was the huge monstrosity, called the Iron Throne. All melted swords, broken ones and what not. Atop the throne sat a man, wearing gold and black robes. The man had black hair and blue eyes, the color of storm. He had a massive warhammer in hi hand. On the foot of the throne there was a old man, bald, with a few blonde hairs on the sides. The man had cat-green eyes, flecked with gold. There were two bundles laind in front of him. From his position Jae could not see what was in those bundles, but the crown around the man looked shocked. However the man atop the throne had a triumphant smirk.

"Dragonspawn." Those were the only words that the man spoke. Then he understood. The bundles contained Aegon and Rhaenys. White hot anger burst inside him but he could not move. Robert Baratheon picked up his warhammer and started walking towards him. All he could do was stare at the usurper.

"Wake up. Wake up Jae, wake up." Some foreign voice spoke in his ears.

Just then Baratheon's bloody warhammer came on his face.

He shot up from his sleeping position, breathing hard, shirt soaked. His chest heaved after such a terrifying dream. He saw Dany, worry etched in her face. He quickly grabbed her into a hug, and she hugged him back, her hands wounding in his hair.

"I saw him Dany. I saw the usurper. I saw the dead bodies of Aegon and Rhaenys. He was happy Dany. He had them killed and he was happy about it." He croaked, in her ear.

"Shhh….. Jae. You need to rest. It is the middle of the night. I'll stay here, like this, and then you won't have bad dreams." She mumbled into his ear. "But before you sleep, you are all sticky with sweat. I'll just clean you."

Dany put her hands on the hem of his shirt and lifted it up. He could see a faint rosy blush on her cheeks, her lips, parted. She took a spare bit of cloth and dipped it into the bowl of water. She gently moved the cloth over his body, on his chest, abdomen and back. Her movements were slow and sensual. She put the cloth back on the side table and laid him back in the middle of the bed. Dany draped an arm on his torso and kept her head on his chest, and fell to sleep listening to his heart beats. He buried his head in her hair inhaling the lemon scent that came off her. Soon he also fell into a deep sleep, one which was not marred by dreams.

The Starry Wolf

Arthur Sand, the bastard son of Brandon Stark and Ashara Dayne, was here in his room on the wall, where he wanted to serve. Why did a bastard from Dorne want to serve in the Nights Watch? Well even he didn't know just that he wanted to get away from Dorne from everywhere. Bastards were not blighted as they were in the Seven Kingdoms. The reason he wanted to go away from Dorne was because inDorne he was slighted as the nephew of the northern whore. His father was killed by the Mad King while his mother watched. His mother threw herself from the Palestone Sword Tower after his uncle Eddard Stark had arrived with the body of his other uncle, his namesake, Ser Arthur Dayne. The uncle which he had lived with, Lord Alister Dayne, had brought him up with his cousin Edric Dayne. He had kept correspondence with his uncle in the North, and Eddard Stark, or Ned as he let himself be called as was a honorable man. He had the wolf's blood that his father had carried but he had been a bit successful at that but it had erupted more than a few times. He was an excellent rider, a jouster, a swordsman, but when he read about the Wall he had an urge to go there. The had somewhere read that a Stark of Karstark from each generation had gone to the wall to serve. Bastard or Highborn didn't matter. That is why he was on the wall, and even in such a chilling climate, he felt as though he was home.

He had struck a quick friendship with his uncle Benjen Stark, and Tyrion Lannister. For a man who was a dwarf, Tyrion Lannister had an awfully big head, and quick wits to had also made a friend from the south. Samwell Tarly, firstborn of Randyll Tarly, Lord of Horn Hill. Samwell Tarly was all that a man like Randyll Tarly didn't want as son. He was bookish, fat, and couldn't swing a sword even if he wanted to. The first few days at the wall made Samwell Tarly earn a name, Ser Piggy, he was called. He had welcomed the man with open arms in his small group of friends he had formed. By making Samwell Tarly a friend he had also made an enemy of Ser Alliser Thorne, the master at arms. The man was bitter, humorless and didn't tolerate a joke. He was very strict and had given him many challenges, but being the son of Brandon Stark and nephew of Ser Arthur Dayne had made him inherit sword skills and horse riding skills like none other.

Today had been the selection of where people would go as as what they would serve. He had high hopes of becoming a ranger because he was a better rider and swordsman than any of the others. He wanted to go look for his uncle Benjen Stark beyond the wall where they had said him to be lost. All his hopes had been dashed when Lord Commander Jeor Mormont had proclaimed him steward. His wolf's blood had been hot at that time and he was angry, very angry. When Maester Aemon had proclaimed him to be the steward for the lord commander himself he was rude to the kind maester.

It was after that Sam had come and explained what a boon it could have been. Being the Lord Commander's steward made him privy to personal information, he would be there in the meetings, he could suggest the Lord Commander on various topics. Pyp had even told them how a high lord had wanted to touch his cock. When he had refused, the lord wanted to get his hands cut off but he chose to join the Night's Watch, deserting his family for another one, among rapers, thieves, poachers and what not. Sam had also made a decision to come and take his vow in front of the old gods. He wanted to take the vow in front of the gods his father and his family had believed in. So now here he was on a horse, in a ice tunnel, towards a heart tree, a mile away from the wall. When the portcullis opened he saw the land beyond the wall for the first time. The land beyond the wall had a strange, dangerous beauty to it, with its snow capped mountains to a distance the haunted forest directly in front of them. After a while they reached the haunted forest. The forest had an eerie silence about itself. The only that he could hear were the rustling of leaves, and the snapping of twigs underneath the hooves of their horses. After a while the reached the heart tree which was there in all its splendor. The crimson leaves of the tree contrasted beautifully with its white bark. The face of the heart tree was one of a morose one, red sap leaking from the eyes, looking as if it were leaking tears of blood. They knelt at the base of the heart tree to say their vows.

"Hear my words, and bear witness to my vow. Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come." He and Sam said together.

"You knelt as boys and now you rise as men." One of the brother's said. He stood up and helped Sam up. He embraced his black brothers clapping them hard on their backs. That was when he heard a whine.

"Sam did you hear that?" he questioned his friend. Sam just shook his head but he was not entirely convinced. He went around the heart tree and into the woods a bit further than he actually should have. To his surprise he found a dead direwolf there, the fur crusted with snow, eyes lifeless and pale. The only thing that could indicate of her death were the frozen pups laying around her. The direwolf died birthing its children but the children will also not be able to see the sunlight. Then he heard the whine again. It was coming from the dead direwolf. He approached the wolf cautiously and rolled over her dead body. To his surprise he found a alive direwolf, there, on the verge of death. He picked up the pup. The pup had sun-brown fur and amber eyes that looked like sunrise itself. Dawn. The pup gave a yelp at that.

"I said that aloud didn't I. Dawn that is your name right." The pup again yelped. "Come Dawn, I'll keep you safe my little direwolf."

"Arthur, come here, we've found someone." Sam's voice shouted. He rushed back to where the heart tree was. On the ground were laid two man, their cloak the color of a raven's wing. Brother's of the Night's Watch had been found. Dead. he just held his breath to see if one of them was uncle Benjen. But it wasn't. Uncle Benjen was still out there alive. He could feel it. Dawn began to whine at the sight of the dead men.

"Is that a wolf pup?"Sam asked.

"No it's a Direwolf, and it's mine. The name is Dawn." Arthur replied to him. He could see Sam's face blanch at the word direwolf but no more questions were asked.


Follow the description of the pommel as given in CH2 THE QUIET WOLF POV (Part 1).
Ñuha dārilaros: My prince/ princess. (acccording to who delivers the dialogue).
Dārilaros: Prince/ Princess.