THE STUNTED LION POV: one week after THE STARRY-WOLF POV(CH4)
THE FISH-WOLF POV: one month after THE FISH -WOLF AND THE YOUNG DIREWOLF POV(CH4)
THE LADY DIREWOLF: one week after THE QUIET WOLF POV(CH4)
THE QUIET WOLF: same day as THE LADY DIREWOLF POV(CH5)
THE WILD DIREWOLF: same day as THE LADY DIREWOLF POV(CH5)
THE DRAGONWOLF PRINCE: three weeks after THE HIDDEN DRAGON POV(CH4)


The Stunted Lion

Tyrion Lannister, son of Lord Tywin Lannister and late Lady Joanna Lannister, called the Imp, the Dwarf of Casterly Rock, rode with his guards Jyck and Morrec towards the looming, grey walls of Winterfell. He had journeyed North towards the wall and he had seen the poor state of the Night's watch himself. While he was very impressed by the Wall, which sone like a single jewel when the sunlight stroke it, splashing various colors, the same could not be said for the state of the castle on the Wall. Only three castles were manned by the Night's Watch, Castle Black, Shadow Tower to the west, and Eastwatch to the east as the name suggested. Lord Commander Jeor Mormont, was as honorable as Eddard Stark, it seemed to him honor ran in almost every northman's veins. The Night's Watch which in the beginning had boasted of about ten thousand men, had now been reduced to thousand men, and more than ever the ranging parties went missing and the wildlings beyond the wall were fleeing south in all haste. The Lord Commander had asked him to make his father and the King aware of the watch's needs. During the journey north, he had also made good friends with Benjen Stark, both of them having one thing in common. Their mothers died after they were born in childbed. Benjen stark was not all serious like Eddard Stark and had his fair share of humorous times.

One his two weeks at the wall, he had also found the company of Arthur Sand. The boy was dornish bastard, well half a dornish one and half a northern one. The son of Brandon Stark and Ashara Dayne, had all the Stark features but the same violet eyes that his mother possessed. Arthur Sand looked more a Stark that his own cousin Robb Stark. When he asked the boy why he had left the comforts of Dorne for a frozen wall, the boy had said that the northern winds of the wall soothed his blood more than the dornish heat. The maester at Castle Black was the one he was used to spend time with. Quick witted and smart even for his age Maester Aemon was a genius. He had nearly pissed himself when the Maester had said that his hair had been silver since his birth. A Targaryen. A fucking Targaryen right here in Castle Black. He had pissed in his breeches when he had said it.

Right now he was trotting through the Hunter's Gate in to the walls of Winterfell. He could see the hostile stares of the people of Winterfell. He really didn't know what had happened, or was it just the name Lannister attached to his name. He didn't bother with it. He just kept trotting towards the stables. When he reached the stables he dismounted.

"Jyck, keep the horses with you. Morrec come with me." He ordered the two guards. He made way towards the Great Hall of Winterfell where he could meet with Robb Stark.

When he entered the Great Hall he was cornered by two direwolves. He fell back on his ass, unable to help himself at the situation. He could hear the low menacing growls from the mouths of the wolves promising a bad death, full of blood and gore.

"Shaggydog, Greywind leave him." A young voice spoke. The growls of the wolves ceased and they left him alone the black one going to the boy who spoke. On looking at him he recognized him as Rickon Stark, the youngest son of Eddard Stark. The black one bowed in front of him mewling at the boy's like a newborn pup, rather than a direwolf taller than him. He looked in front of him and saw Robb Stark sitting on the throne of the Winter Kings. The throne of the Winter Kings was a impressive sight, made of iron with stone carved direwolves on the armrests and the runes of the First Men engraved on its sides, it really looked like a throne. Robb Stark sat on the throne, his auburn hair, straight reaching to the nape of his neck. Unlike his father Robb Stark kept his hair free. At his side a massive grey direwolf stood, its height reaching the height of Robb Stark, while he was sitting on the throne. On the armrest of the throne was a sword propped up, taller than Robb Stark, the crossguard in the shape of two snarling wolves and the pommel a wolf the color of smoke grey and eyes made of chips of topaz. The pommel represented the direwolf beside the throne. Ice, he remembered. The ancestral sword of House Stark. A crown on his head and Robb Stark would look more like a King that his nephew Joffrey could ever be.

"Lord Tyrion, perhaps you may tell us what you are doing here? I was under the impression that you were going to depart straight to the Westerlands from the wall." Robb Stark asked.

"I was, but I thought that I could leave Lord Brandon a present, hearing that he is crippled. Fall from a tower people say." He answered, all in good health. When he looked at the young Lords face all he saw was his mouth pressed hardly.

"You come here to give my brother a present who was killed by a catspaw from your family, who was thrown from the tower from a Lannister." Stark said. Killed was the only word that pounded on his head. Brandon Stark was killed by a catspaw. Brandon Stark was heaved, from a tower by his family. Robb Stark was blaming him, but he needed to be sure that it was really someone from his family.

"How do you prove that it was a member from my family Lord Stark?" He asked.

"We found clumps of hair. Long, Lannister gold hair, from where my brother was heaved." Stark answered, softly but full of anger. The details weighed heavy on him. Cersei, was the only name that came to his mind. The hair fit perfectly to her description.

"Well Lord Stark, I am completely innocent of the crimes that any Lannister may have done. As you can see, I've pale gold hair unlike that which my sister has." He said, trying to save himself.

"Lord Tyrion, what was the gift you were trying to give to my brother." Stark asked him. Well the gift was really a saddle design, that would allow a cripple to ride on a horse.

"It was a saddle design Lord Stark. I've heard that you Starks' have a great love for riding. Well we cannot have a Stark who cannot ride can we." He japed, but Robb Stark didn't look in the mood for fun. At a time like this Robb Stark reminded him a lot Eddard Stark.

"Why Lord Tyrion? I'm sure you know that I wanted to throw you in the dungeons, for your family's crimes against my family's." Robb Stark asked, softly.

"Well, Lord Stark I've a great love for cripples, bastards and broken things." He japed, trying to lessen the mood for everybody.

"Lord Tyrion, I know I should not be asking, but mayhaps, you can draw a saddle design for our direwolves. We've recently found out the great love of riding on the back of a direwolf." Robb Stark asked. He could see the pleading look in his eyes.

"Sure, Lord Stark. I'll be ready to give you the design's by tomorrow." He said, agreeing to draw the saddle design.

"Maester Luwin, make sure that Lord Tyrion is comfortably settled in the guest house. Make sure that there is servant to attend to his needs." Stark spoke, ordering the Maester, seated beside him.

"Thank you, Lord Stark, but there is one more thing I would like to say before I make to the guest house. You see Lord Stark, while I was on the Wall, I met a bastard named Arthur Sand. that bastard is your cousin, you see. He is the son of Brandon Stark and Ashara Dayne. It'll be good if you write to him Lord Stark." With those words, he left the hall walking on his stubby legs to the guest house.

The Fish-Wolf

Two weeks, it had taken two weeks from Winterfell to White Harbor. She had set out a day after Bran's funeral, where he had been placed beside Brandon and Lyanna, with the other dead Starks. She had set out with a heavy heart all the way to King's landing about what had transpired. She even carried the dagger with her. Valyrian steel and hilt Dragonbone. Golden hair. A Lannister had done this and the Lannister's would pay. They would all pay for killing her sweet child, for crippling him. They had been welcomed into White Harbor the Lord of White Harbor, Wyman Manderly, offering her, his condolences on the death of her son. Ser Rodrik and her had boarded the ship the day after, taking Lord Manderly's hospitality for a night. They had boarded the ship Storm Dancer. The captain of the ship was nice and had offered them the best cabins for a reasonable price. The first few days on the ship didn't agree with Ser Rodrik, him being a northman, away from the sea, who were not particularly fond of ships, not since Brandon the Burner had burned away the northern fleet, which had never been constructed till date. It was now time to construct the fleet. She had given Lord Manderly the orders on behalf of her son, which Robb had not issued at all. She just hoped that her eldest would understand, with them being on the brink of war with the Lannisters.

They reached King's Landing after a month of journey on sea, Ser Rodrik got adjusted to it by the second week. Till the second the old knight was constantly sick. She stood out there, near the railing, seeing the sights of the city. The famous Dragonpit, the Sept of Baelor, and the Red Keep, all placed on hills named after the first King and Queens of Westeros. She could make out the small people walking on the ramparts wearing shiny armor, the City Watch. She wanted to run to the Red Keep as soon as she stepped from the ship but she knew that she couldn't because the people may recognize her. People would ask why she had left Winterfell and made way to King's Landing. She couldn't very well tell them that the Lannisters had killed her son. Even if it were true she could not blame the Queen's family without any hard evidence. A valyrian steel dagger and clumps of Lannister hair were not enough to prove that the Lannister's had sent the cutthroat. She would have to talk to Ned about and Ned would investigate it himself about it. It pained her that she would have to break such bad news to her husband. Ned would be broken to hear that his Second son had been killed. She knew that he would rage, inside, drown himself in emotional turmoil, but she didn't want him to do that. She wanted Ned to stay here in this viper's pit and find out who had dared to harm an heir of one of the Greatest Houses of Westeros. A house which controlled territory as big as the other houses combined.

"We are going to reach King's Landing my lady." Ser Rodrik said, startling her for a minute.

"Yes we are Ser Rodrik. Yes we are." She said, attesting to it.

"My good friend. It's good to see that you are a bit better at the end of the journey." The captain, Moreo Tumitis, spoke. Moreo Tumitis , was a Tyroshi, with a green forked beard. She had garnered that Moreo, had sailed the Narrow Sea for almost thirty years. She had picked Storm Dancer because it was the fastest ship available at the docks.

"Captain, I sincerely thank you for the making us reach King's Landing as fast as possible. For this please have ten gold dragons for yourself and ten silver stags to each of your crew members." She said offering the money to the captain.

"My lady, I cannot accept this. This is too much." Moreo protested.

"I insist." She said as she shoved the bag in the Tyroshi's hands.

"Lower the gangway." The captain boomed, as they docked themselves. The gangway lowered, and Ser Rodrik and she walked down to the firm ground. It felt good to have her feet back on ground. More than good, but she dreaded of how she would tell Ned about Bran. the thought had been on her head ever since the day she had walked away from Winterfell.

"It's good to be back on my feet my lady." Ser Rodrik spoke a smile on his face.

"Aye, Ser Rodrik it is. Now we need to find a inn where we can stay and then we will go to Lord Stark and inform him of the situation." She said. Just then she saw two gold cloaks coming towards them with the periphery of her eyes. She saw the heavy woollen cloak, dyed goal, the black breastplate, with four disks on it. The men carried spears on their hands. Somehow she got the feeling that these men knew that she was Lady Stark. It was easy to recognize her from her bright red Tully hair.

"Lady Stark, we've been told by Lord Baelish to escort you to one of his brothels." One of the gold cloaks said.

"How dare you speak to the Lady like this. A brothel, this is blasphemy." Ser Rodrik thundered.

"Ser Rodrik, calm down. Littlefinger is a friend. I have every intention to believe that Lord Baelish means us no harm." She said as she calmed Ser Rodrik. What was Littlefinger playing at? How did he know that I was coming here? Nobody was supposed to know that? The questions ran in her mind. The gold cloaks took her down the street, all the way from the docks to the bottom of Rhaenys' Hill. Her legs were sore from walking so much. They entered the brothel to find many a girls scantily dressed offering themselves to men who had come for the Hand's tourney. She saw many notable people there getting escorted by the girls they had chosen.

"My lady, such things are not meant for your eyes." Ser Rodrik said, casting his eyes on the ground, his cheeks red.

"Cat." She heard someone shout. She averted her eyes and looked there to see her childhood friend Petyr Baelish with his laughing gery-green cat like eyes. She moved to where Petyr was standing and Petyr hugged her. "Cat how many years has it been?" Petyr asked, his breath smelling of fresh mint. She dislodged herself from his arms.

"Seventeen years I think." She answered.

"Come let us go somewhere private. The knight can join." Petyr said, as he escorted her to one of the lodgings in the brothel. Once they entered the room she made herself comfortable on the sofa whereas Petyr sat on the table.

"So what brings Lady Catelyn Stark so away from Winterfell?" Petyr asked her. She started to speak but was interrupted by Ser Rodrik.

"My Lady is it prudent to tell this man the reason?" Ser Rodrik asked her.

"We can trust him Ser Rodrik. He is an old friend of mine." She said to Ser Rodrik.

"So Cat what happened?" Petyr asked. She took out the dagger form her satchel.

"Someone sent a cutthroat to kill Bran. He was killed in the attack but my younger son's direwolf killed the cutthroat." She explained to him. The expression on his face was one of horror.

"You say that the cutthroat wielded this dagger?" Petyr asked.

"Yes. do you know anything about the dagger." She asked.

"Oh! I know this dagger very well Cat." Petyr exclaimed. He took the dagger from her hands and held the tip between his fingers. He quickly turned and threw the dagger at the other end of the room. The dagger sailed past, embedding itself in the wall. He turned towards her. "You see this dagger was mine, but I lost it on a bet to Tyrion Lannister." He said, smirking. "I think that the Lannisters are responsible for this. I'm sorry Catelyn, but that is what I can garner." He said.

"I need to tell this to Ned." She muttered to herself. "Petyr help me and please bring Lord Stark here as soon as possible. I really need to speak to him." She said, pleading to Littlefinger.

"I will bring him here tomorrow. You and the dear knight can stay her for tonight." Petyr said.

"Thank you Petyr." She said. Littlefinger left the room, probably to do some of his duties. She eased herself on the bed, trying to process all the knowledge she had gained today.

The Lady Direwolf

"Jory. Jory." She shouted with all her might, as she ran from her room. "Jory, where are you?" She kept shouting. She finally saw Jory at some distance. She slowed down, but kept walking, fast. "Jory, you oaf. We need to go to the Sept of Baelor." She told him.

"Pray, remind me my lady but why do we need to go to a sept?" He grumbled.

"We need to go to this sept because it is the greatest sept of Westeros. Even the Starry Sept is nothing in comparison to this." She said, trying to sound sweet.

"Yes my lady." He said accepting his defeat. He turned and went towards the steps. She pumped her fist into the air. All of this was so much like Arya and so less like her previous self, the little lady, but she enjoyed this. She had been visiting various places in Kings Landing, the Dragonpit, the tourney grounds, the Blackwater rush, and all of it, but she had still not seen the Great Sept of Baelor. She followed Jory out of the tower of the hand, to the stables where the horses were kept. She mounted on her own horse, Snow, while Jory mounted his and they took off for the Great Sept of Baelor.

On reaching the Great Sept of Baelor, she saw the statue of King Baelor I Targaryen, a septon as well as a king. The statue of Baelor Targaryen, showed that the man was very thin and frail looking. The King wore a crown made of flowers and vines. She walked past the statue but Jory stood there.

"Come Jory. Why are you standing there." She asked him.

"It's not my place in a sept my lady. I am wholly of the North my lady and I prefer the company of the trees that the company of statues." Jory answered.

"Fine." She relented. She walked past the doors of the Sept and ended up in the Hall of Lamps. True to its name, she walked beneath suspended globes of colored, leaded glass, which looked like lamps. She then saw the double doors which led the people inside the Sept. through the double doors was a proper Sept, with seven broad isles which underneath a dome of glass, gold and crystal. The floors were made of marble, and the great windows of leaded, colored glass, and seven altars depicting the seven pillars of the faith. Father, Warrior, Smith, Mother, Maiden, Crow, Stranger. Beneath the altars were candles lit. She saw the several doors the led the people out of the sept. The septon's used the Father's doors and the septa's used the Mother's doors. The Silent Sisters however used the Stranger's doors, and covered their face and head in grey only showcasing their eyes. The task of the Silent Sisters was to attend the dead.

She knelt at the altar of the Father. The Father was represented as a bearded man who carried scales. She prayed to the Father, asking him to help Robb, to seek justice and to recognize it. She then knelt at the altar of the Mother, who always seemed to smile, and asked her to Bran safe. At last she knelt at the altar of the Warrior, who was always depicted with a sword, and asked her to give Robb courage to face his enemies, on the battlefield and outside the battlefield.

She then left the Sept and met Jory back near the statue of the Baelor.

"So my lady are we done or there is something else that we have to do?" Jory asked. She remembered seeing Arya in her dance lessons aptly called that way, because they were sword lessons. She had also seen a slender blade on Arya's trunk while she was in Arya's room. When Arya had found out she had shouted at her, telling her to never tell anyone or she would kill her with needle. When she had asked Arya who had given it to her, Arya had broken down crying and only whispered the name Jon. The gift was from Jon, the only gift he had given to anyone before running away from Winterfell. While a sword was good, a dagger could also help if the sword fail. She had heard from somewhere that the best armorer of King's Landing was Tobho Mott, who owned a shop very close to the Great Sept of Baelor.

"No," she said, after a lot of thought. "We will go to Tobho Mott's. It is very near."

"Who is Tobho Mott?" Jory asked.

"He is an armorer. And before you ask any more questions, I want to buy a dagger for Arya and myself. It will help when none of you are around." She said and offered an explanation at the same time. Jory had a dumbfounded look on his face.

"I always thought the Arya was the one to have wolf's blood in her veins. It seems all the Stark children except Jon have wolf's blood. Though only Arya and little Rickon have a full force of it, the rest of you clearly have a touch of it as well." Jory muttered, under his breath. She laughed at the statement.

"I may have a touch of wolf's blood, Jory, but I think I am still a lady. One who wields a dagger." She said to Jory. Jory offered a small smile at that.

"Well my lady then it is best that we move on to this Tobho Mott's shop." Jory said, now grinning openly. The journey to the shop was a short one, on horseback. Soon we came in front of a building bigger than those present on the Street of Steel. Behind his house his shop was laid in a cavernous barn. There were several men and some boys working in the shop. Her eyes drew herself to the man towering over them. The man was wearing a cloak with silver hammers embroidered on its sleeves. The man also wore heavy silver chain, from which hung a large sapphire.

"Alright lads, I'll be gone for today. You all will see to the customers. Many people will come with the Hand's Tourney so close. Don't disappoint anyone, or you will be disappointed. Gendry you are incharge." The man spoke, harshly and firmly. Tobho Mott descended down the steps and his eyes shined in recognition on seeing the Hand's daughter.

"Lady Stark. How may Tobho Mott be of assistance to you?" Tobho Mott asked.

"Master Mott, I require two daggers, finely made of course. Should be well suited for a woman's hand. I've heard that your shop is the best so I decided to come to you." She said, politely.

"Lady Stark, I am in a bit of a hurry today, but Gendry will look after your needs." Tobho Mott said to her.

"Gendry, do look after the Lady Stark's needs." Mott shouted and then he exited the armory. Soon a young man came out. The man was shy of six feet by an inch. His black hair, was long and a bit untamed, falling on his face like silken strands of cloth. The man pushed his hair back and she saw his eyes, his eyes as blue as the storm, in fact they looked like the eye of the storm. The boy had high cheekbones and square jaw. Even belonging to the lower end of the society he looked as if he belonged to the upper echelons. The man was similar of age to Robb, fifteen years old and very muscled. She felt her face heating up by looking at this boy.

"M'lady. How can I help you?" The boy asked. So this was Gendry, after all Mott had told her that he would look after he cares.

"I want two daggers which can be easily concealed. They should be fit for a woman's hand." She replied, concisely.

"Any specifications on the hilt m'lady?" Gendry asked.

"No, I want the hilts to be plain." She replied. Gendry nodded.

"It will be done in three to four days m'lady." She nodded at it, agreeing with the timings.

"So Gendry, are you participating at the Hand's Tourney?" She asked him. His face held a look of shock.

"No, no. I cannot. If I participate who will, craft and how will I get my payment?" He questioned her.

"I heard the melee champion will receive ten thousand gold dragons. I'm sure that will cover your payment for one or two years." She answered. " Surely with that muscle and the way you spent your time with hammers can win you that prize." She said. "Surely you can craft a warhammer and enter the melee. It is open to all, highborn or lowborn. The Hand's Tourney is in two and a half weeks." She said thinking ahead of time.

"I…..I will think about it." Gendry said, stammering, his hands running at the back of his head showcasing he was confused.

"Well, you can craft you Warhammer when you want, but don't forget about my daggers." She reminded him. "And if you need assistance in joining the melee, then call for me. Call for Sansa Stark, daughter of the Hand of the King." She added, stating herself if he had any difficulties finding her.

"Yes m'lady." He said, his face red like a tomato. She giggled at it, very un-lady like and walked back to where their horses were. She mounted the horse and looked back at Jory, who had a look of shock on his face.

"Jory, what happened?" She asked him, wanting to know what had shocked him.

"He isn't just any armorer's apprentice Sansa." Jory said. This was one of those rare time he had called her by her name and not some courtesy. Jory's face was pale. "He is a bastard." Jory said.

"Jory it is not good to speak about someone like that. He helped us." She said, angry at jory for making such a rude comment.

"He is the Robert Baratheon's bastard son. Robert Baratheon's eldest son." Jory muttered, softly so that only she could hear it. Her face drained itself of color. Robert Baratheon's bastard. The eldest son of a King. The bastard son of a King. She could very well see the similarities between them now. The same hair color and the same blue eyes. The jaw and cheekbones all so same. Yet they were so different. Father and Son were nothing alike.

"We should tell him." She choked out the words.

"No we should not. If the queen hears of it she will kill the boy." Jory said.

"I told him to join the melee at the Hand's Tourney. Surely the queen will see him then." She argued.

"Robert will also see him. As long as he will live nobody will harm your armorer." Jory said, teasing her somehow. She felt herself heat up again.

"He is not my armorer, Jory." She muttered as she hit him playfully on the shoulder.

"No, my lady. He is not." Jory said, sprouting a full blown smile on his face. They then trotted back to the Hand's tower, her mind solely focused on the black haired, blue eyed boy she had left back at the shop.

The Quiet Wolf

He was involved in one of the boring small council meetings, once again pertaining the Hand's Tourney. How many times had he told the people that it was the Kings Tourney and the Hand had no part in it. He had been meaning to ask Grand Maester Pycelle about Jon Arryn but he could not find the time. So, today it had been his utmost motive to stop the Grand Maester and talk to him about Jon Arryn right after he dismissed the council meeting. He dismissed the Lords of the small council after the boring council was over. The Lords stood up and left until the old Grand Maester was left.

"The heat?" the maester murmured, but he heard him. "On days like this, I envy you northerners and your summer snows." The maester spoke a bit loudly, glancing at him.

"I've meaning to talk to you about Jon Arryn?" He asked to the maester, before he could leave. There was a somber look on his face.

"Lord Arryn. His death was a great sadness to all of us. I took personal charge of his care but I could not save him." He had an explanatory expression on his face. "His sickness struck him hard and very fast. I saw him in my chambers just night before his passed. Lord Jon often came to me for council." There was a smile on his face, but he couldn't help but ask.

"Why?" If would've needed council he would've gone to someone else not a maester. There was a surprising look of anger on the face of the Grand Maester.

"I've been Grand Maester for many years. Kings and hands have come to me for advice since-" Pycelle started to state but he cut him off.

"What did Jon want? The night before he died." He asked him again.

"He came enquiring about a book." Pycelle said.

"A book." he couldn't believe that Jon wanted a book. Jon was too much a fighter in his youth to ask for a book. He wanted to know more about the book. "What book?" He asked Pycelle.

"I fear it would be little use to you my lord. A ponderous tome." Pycelle said with conviction. Jon wanted it, it must've have held some value.

"No, I'd like to read it." he said to the maester.

"Well my lord, then it is best if we go to my solar. It is kept over there." Pycelle said. He followed the Grand Maester to his solar. The place was filled with tomes and ancient knowledge. He could also see the various kind of poisons that littered the dusty shelves. The Grand Maester went behind the chair of his solar and brought out a very large tome. What shocked him was the name of the book.

"The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms, With Descriptions of Many High Lords and Noble Ladies and Their Children, by Maester Malleon." Pycelle said, grunting and heaving as he put the book on the table. The Maester sat on the chair opposite to him. He went ahead and opened the book and came straight face to face with the red three headed dragon on a black field of House Targaryen.

"Maegor Targaryen, First of Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. Born to King Aegon Targaryen, First of his Name, and Queen Visenya Targaryen. Silver of hair and Lilac of eye. Born in Dragonstone, died in Kings Landing atop the Iron Throne. Married Ceryse Hightower, Alys Harroway, Tyanna of the Tower, Elinor Costayne, Jeyne Westerling, and Rhaena Targaryen." he read reading the description of the Maegor the Cruel. He then turned the pages and saw the grey direwolf on a ice white field of House Stark. His House. He turned a few more pages until he came to the page dedicated to his father, Lord Rickard Stark.

"Lord Rickard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North and Lord Paramount of the Northlands. Born to Lord Edwyle Stark and Lady Marna Locke. Brown of hair and Grey of eye. Born in Winterfell, died in Kings Landing, executed by Aerys Targaryen, Second of his Name for Treason. Married Lady Lyarra Stark. Had four children. Brandon Stark,executed by the Aerys Targaryen, Second of His Name, Eddard Stark, now Lord of Winterfell, Lyanna Stark, abducted and raped by Rhaegar Targaryen, Benjen Stark, First ranger of Castle Black." He tried to control his emotions and point out the various flaws in the writing of the book. Burned and Strangled instead of executed. Lyanna Stark, married to Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, died of childbed fever, birthing Jaehaerys Targaryen.

Promise me Ned! Promise me Ned! The words kept ringing in his head. He let out few tears from his eyes trying to control his emotion as best as he could. Building the Wall on his emotions higher than Brandon the Builder made on the edge of Westeros.

"I'm sorry my Lord, no man should read such thing about his sire and siblings." Pycelle's voice came, oddly it was a bit comforting. "Would you still like to take the tome my lord?" Pycelle asked.

"Yes." he answered. "So Grand Maester. Did Jon arryn tell you what he wanted with it?" He asked Maester, his voice a bit miffed.

"He did not my lord, and I did not presume to ask." Pycelle stated.

Jon's death-" he began but was cut off from the Maester.

"Such a tragedy." Pycelle said, head nodding.

"Did he say anything to you during his final hours?" He prodded.

"Nothing of importance my lord." Pycelle said, but a quick look of remembering something came to his face. "There was one phrase he kept repeating. 'The Seed is Strong.' I think it was."

"The Seed is Strong. What does that mean?" He asked.

"A dying mind, a demented mind Lord Stark. For all the weight they are given last words are as important as the first words." Pycelle said. Yes they are important. It must mean something. Thought there was something else too. Pycelle had said that Jon Arryn was healthy the night before. Jon was struck with a silent illness. He couldn't believe it.

"Are you quite sure Lord Arryn, died naturally?" He asked Pycelle.

"What else could it be?" Pycelle asked.

"Poison." he answered, after a thought.

"Hmm… Disturbing thought. I don't think it likely. Lord Arryn was loved by all. What sort of man would dare-" Pycelle said, but he cut him off.

"It is said that poison is a woman's weapon." He said to the Maester.

"Yes. women , cravens and eunuchs." Pycelle voice became dangerously doubting at the end of it. "Did you know that Lord Varys is a eunuch Lord Stark?" Pycelle asked. Was this man trying to put blame on Varys just because he was a eunuch.

"Yes. everybody knows that." He said. Pycelle just kept nodding at it, his face contorting from his doubtful one to his normal one.

"Yes. Yes of course. How that sort of person found himself on the King's Council, is beyond my comprehension." Pycelle said.

Till the time Pycelle ended demeaning the person he had closed the book and wedged it between his hip bone and hand. "Thank you for your time." He said to him.

"No trouble my Lord." Pycelle said, struggling to stand up.

"Thank you. I'll find my own way out." He said leaving Pycelle to his orchestrations.

On the way to his room he encountered Petyr Baelish. The man threw him a sly smirk as he walked towards him.

"Lord Stark." He shouted.

"Lord Baelish." He greeted him the same. "What bring you here?" He asked almost immediately afterwards.

"Well Lord Stark, you see, I've seen your wife, Lady Catelyn Stark, here in Kings Landing." Baelish said. Catelyn in King's Landing the idea was abhorrent.

"Lord Baelish, it seems that your eyes have weakened a bit. My Lady is in Winterfell, caring for my son Brandon Stark." He said to Baelish.

"Well my lord, believe what you must believe. I'm only telling the truth." The was Baelish spoke made him want to believe it. "I'll take my leave Lord Stark. I have other pressing matters to look after." Baelish said as he walked to whatever he was going to do. He too started walking to his chambers.

"Lord Stark, if you believe by tomorrow that your wife is in Kings Landing then I'll be happy to guide you where she is." Baelish shouted.

"Well, Lord Baelish why don't you trust me with this information." He shouted at him.

"It's very easy to understand Lord Stark. You just can't trust everyone in Kings Landing. Little birds here and there. Even the walls have ears Lord Stark. Best to know that in a pit of vipers." Baelish said to him. Catelyn in Kings Landing. He scoffed at it but a small teensy part of his mind told him that what Baelish had told him was true. He turned to see Baelish gone.

"Well I'll just have to ask the man tomorrow." He said to no one but the air and the walls.

Even the walls have ears Lord Stark. Best to know that in a pit of vipers. Baelish's voice rang in his head in a mocking tone.

The Wild Direwolf

Arya Stark, had been called a wild girl, ever since her birth. Not wanting to stay in one place, not wanting to learn the womanly arts of sewing, singing, dancing and all other rubbish that Septa mordane had taught the women in Winterfell. She was different from her brother's and sister. Where they had the Tully features she had the Stark ones. Brown hair, that was mussed up most of the time, and grey eyes the color of the walls of Winterfell. The only person who had matched her in looks was he brother Jon Snow, who had left Winterfell after the day their father called him to talk with him. She was distraught over what had happened and her father himself had send ravens to all the Lords of the North asking about Jon describing himself as a sullen boy, with brown almost black hair, and grey eyes so dark that they seemed black.

Most of her life she had been called plain and had been teased by her sister and her best friend Jeyne Poole, daughter of Vayon Poole, the steward of Winterfell by the name 'Arya Horseface'. Though sometimes she had been called as beautiful as her illustrious aunt Lyanna. Though she had not known about her aunt much she remembered that Robert Baratheon had killed Rhaegar Targaryen because he had abducted his betrothed. She had wanted to hold a sword instead of a needle. She had wanted to dance with swords instead of boys, but she had play to dutiful child of the Lord Paramount of the Northlands. She had even been given a sword by Mikken. He had told her that this sword had been commissioned by Jon and he had paid the full price for it. The sword was small and head been shaped in the style of one of those braavosi swords. She had playfully named it 'Needle' because it was just like it. Small, sharp at the point so she could stick it into anyone.

During the past few weeks, she had been most surprised. The first time was when father had given Robb Ice. seeing Robb use the sword gave her an inexperienced thrill. The second was when Sansa had defended her during the farce of a trial that had. She had expected her to at least support her poor prince, but she had outright condemned him to Robert Baratheon's punch. The sickening crunch of his nose that had come after the punch had deeply satisfied her. Sansa had also brought about some inner changes to herself. She could a bit of herself in her sister now. Sansa had thundered on Jeyne Poole, when she had called her 'Arya Horseface'. She was most pleased with it.

On one of the days Sansa had come barging into her room when she was looking at her sword. When Sansa had seen it she had a look of shock on her face. Sansa had not complained but just asked her who had given it to her. She had told him that it was Jon, who had made Mikken make it for her and Mikken had given it to her. She had also shouted at Sansa that she would not have understood it because she didn't like Jon as a brother always telling her that he was their half-brother. Sansa then had thundered at her that she had been told like that, groomed like that, and that the Seven told like that. She had just told her that the Seven could stick it up their arses. Sansa had chided her for using such foul words. All of that commotion had garnered the attention of their Father who had also asked her who had given her the sword. When she had refused to tell him, Sansa like an obedient little girl had told him it was Jon. The good thing that came out of it was that her father had made her take 'dancing lessons', which were sword lessons in disguise. Sansa had even found about that, but she had not complained about it.

The dancing were given to her by Syrio Forel, the first sword of Braavos. He had taught her a lot about water dancing. Apparently, the swords used in Braavos were the same as Needle. Syrio had told her that a water dancer needed to swift, so instead of attending the court or roaming the expanse that the Red Keep covered she used to catch the cats who used to evade her most of the time. Once she had caught all the cats except one. It was a tomcat, old and clearly a male, who was mean and one-eared. She had caught him finally one day but she had run across half the keep. When she finally caught him she had kissed him while he tried to scratch at her face. Prince Tommen had made the gold cloaks escort outside but she had evaded them. After all she couldn't tell them that she was the Daughter of Lord Eddard Stark.

She was currently standing on one toe over the steps of her father's chambers but was failing miserably and stood on her foot fingers. She could hear the soft beats of the footsteps made by someone. Well the someone was her father and he was carrying a heavy tome in his hands. She could feel the questioning gaze of her father on her.

"Syrio says a Water Dancer can stand on one toe for hours." She answered to the unasked question.

"It's a hard fall down those steps." Father said, expressing concern in his voice.

"Syrio says, every hurt is a lesson and every lesson makes you better." She could feel a smile stretch across her face. The put down her other foot on the cool marble again. Unlike Winterfell, where the atmosphere was cold and the walls and floors were warm the Red Keep was its complete different. She could feel the sweat rolling down her back in the tunic she had stolen from Robb before they had come here. "Tomorrow I'm going to be chasing cats again." She told her father.

"Cats?" Her father questioned. Immediately a look of understanding came on his face. "Syrio says." he asked her. She could not help but grin at it.

"Syrio says that every swordsman should study cats. They are as quiet as shadows and as light as feathers. You have to be quick to catch them." She explained to him why. She didn't even notice that she had climbed down two steps. Her father went to open the door to his room.

"When Bran is awake will he come live with us." She asked her father. She could see the pained look on his face.

"Well he needs to get his strength back first." Her father explained.

"He wants to be knight of the Kingsguard." She told him. "He can't be now can he?" She asked him, rhetorically. He thought that she didn't know things like this. Well her father was wrong. She did know what had happened to Bran.

"No." He told her. He walked up the steps to her. "But someday he might become a lord of a holdfast," He explained. By the end if it he was seated her her. He continued, "or sit on the Kings council, or he might raise castles, like Brandon the Builder, his namesake." He told her listing off the possibilities.

"Can I be Lord of a holdfast." She asked him innocently. He just laughed at her.

"You will marry a high lord and rule his castle. And your sons shall be knights, and princes and lords." He told her, touching her cheek affectionately. She couldn't think of herself in that position.

"No." she answered to him. "That's not me." with that she walked herself up and started trying to balance herself on one toe. Her father left her alone going to his room.

She stood there for half and hour trying her best to complete the task that she had been set up for. She then left it her feet hurting a lot. She made her way to her room. On her way she was accosted by the smell of lilacs, lavender and rosewater. She saw a bald man wearing, plum colored silks and velvets. How could a man become more of a girl wearing such itching scents were above the scape of her mind. The words spoken by him dealt the heavy blow to her mind.

"Lady Stark in Kings Landing. Well what has happened in the North. It seems that some little birds are going to come forward." The man's voice was very sweet. He giggled after it and the went away not noticing her presence. Mother in Kings Landing, the idea seemed far-fetched. She hadn't left bran's bedside to greet them a safe journey why would she come now. She was still trying to figure out who the man was when a voice rang in her head.

"You see the man with the forked beard, short man. That is Petyr Baelish. The man who looks like the King but is shorter than him. He is Renly Baratheon. Robert's youngest brother. Now you see the bald man over there. One wearing rich colors of plum and violet. That is Varys, the King's spymaster. People compare him to Brynden Bloodraven, who is said to have had a thousand eyes and one. He is said to know everything that goes on in Westeros and Essos." Her father said to her pointing her each of the men.

That was Varys, the Spymaster. He thinks that mother is in Kings Landing then it must be true. She rant to the closest room there was which belonged to Sansa. She barged into her room, wanting to tell her. She saw Sansa beside her bed the drapes closed. Sansa was stark naked. She could see Sansa's thick auburn hair reaching to her round butt. She could also see her flat stomach and her very prominent breasts, her nipples the color of flamingos they had seen in the Riverlands. Her cheeks flushed at the sight of her sister. She turned her head her face burning.

"Sansa." She managed to squeak somehow.

"Arya." her sister shouted. "It's rude to peek on a woman naked.

"I don't care what you want to say right now. All I came to tell you was that I heard the Spymaster, Varys, saying that mother was in Kings Landing." She shouted at her back.

"What?" A high pitched voice said. She turned her head to see that Sansa had covered herself with the blanket. She could see the questioning gaze of her sister. She just nodded at it.

The Dragonwolf Prince

They had been aboard the 260 galley ship for almost three weeks. Dany had lost her grandmother's ring during the stay on the ship and they had questioned each and every person aboard the ship. Ost of the men were from Tyrosh and Norvos with some thrown in from Lys and Volantis. The Lynesi looked like them but they couldn't quite get the feature of his eyes straight. It seemed to him that the color of his eyes were the only shade present in the known world. That was what Dany had said. Ever since the night of the nightmare, Dany had gotten accustomed to sleeping on his bed. He too didn't complain, 'cause he quite liked it. The feel of her her body against his sent heat crawling in his body all in different places.

Today too they were in his room, well for every one day spent in her room Dany spent five in his. His father was also not troubled by this. The only person who was was Viserys. He had continued to screech that how he was supposed to marry Daenerys. When Dany had told him that he was going to sell her to a dothraki horse-lord he rubbed that in his face. It was certainly very interesting to see his reaction to it.

They were seated on his bed and he was trying his level best to braid her hair. They had played, calling out their titles to each other. He began today.

"Queen Daenerys Stormborn, of House Targaryen, First of her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the realm." He spoke aloud. She giggled at it.

"Looks, you added the Stormborn part this time." Dany said. He just grinned at it. She quickly moved away from her position an sat facing him, her violet eyes alight with mischief. She tapped her chin, quite a number of times. "Well I've just got the right thing for you. King Jaehaerys Dragonwolf, of Houses Targaryen and Stark, First of his Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm." He shot her an amused grin.

"Dragonwolf?" He questioned her.

"Well, you chose to use how I was born, amidst a storm, so, I chose from whom you were born. Plus you have a direwolf, all to yourself." She answered. She put her fingers in her hair and tugged at the untangling them.

"I spent so much time making those braids." He said, in mock horror. She playfully hit my shoulder.

"You don't know the first thing about making braids, Jae." She said to me. I put on a sorrowful face. "Oh! Stop doing that and come and sleep." She motioned for him to take the other side as she laid on one side her long hair, covering a bit of her face. He took a curl from her face and tucked it behind her ear. He gave her a warm smile as he saw her cheeks heat up a bit. He just chuckled at her antics. He pushed back her hair and kissed her forehead.

"Sleep. I'll be back in some time. I have to talk to father." He told her. She just gave a contended moan.

"Come fast." She told me, as he left the cabin. He walked through the deck. The wood was polished. He looked up at the sky. At a distance he could see the sky turn into a blood red color. It called him forward. Valyria, popped into his head. The skies above Valyria were blood red in color after the doom had come to them. He released his breath, which he didn't notice that he was holding. He had always wanted to visit Valyria, even as Jon Snow. Now that he knew his heritage he certainly wanted to see the homeland of his ancestors. Lightning flashed overhead, and he ducked at the sound of it. A storm was brewing in distance. It could come today or tomorrow but he desperately wished that it would come after a week. He walked up to his father's room. Unlike the room in Illyrio's manse, his father had a simple room on the ship. A brazier, a double bed, like the rest of them had, a table, his father was sitting, his head bent, looking over some paper's. His harp was in one corner of the room, the silver gleaming through the light of the brazier. He had returned the harp to him, and his father had gifter him another in return. His harp was very similar to his father, only the rubies and sapphires were exchanged from the mouths. The dragons' mouths contained blue sapphires, complementing his father's melancholic nature and the wolf had a red ruby, expressing his mother's wolf's blood.

"The captain reports that there is storm coming up ahead." His father said. Well, he was certainly more attentive than he was. He grinned sheepishly, inside, his face outside bearing a calm expression.

"I saw it. The lightning flashing. I also saw the blood red colored skies of Valyria in a distance. We are very close to our homeland." He told his father. His father looked up at him and ran his hand over his hair, finger-combing it, much like he did.

"Come sit." He motioned him towards the bed. "I know why you have come here, Jae." His father said. He looked at him with puppy dog eyes, pleading him to tell it. "You know, I hate it when you use those eyes. How Dany manages to overcome that I'd never know." His father chuckled at it. When he had first seen them in his bed together, he had done nothing. After some days he had seen it become a habit, he had called him alone to his room and gave him the 'talk'. Just thinking about it made him turn beet red.

"At first, My father was a very promising king. He didn't hold the targaryen madness and had great schemes for westeros. But as those schemes came in his mind, they left him as soon as possible. You see my grandfather, your namesake, King Jaehaerys II Targaryen, made a quote. It was only for House Targaryen. 'Madness and Greatness are two sides of the same coin. Every time a new targaryen is born, the gods toss a coin and the whole world holds its breath to see how it will land.'. Ser Barristan Selmy had told me this. At first all the lords thought that the gods had dropped the coin for Aerys Targaryen. Neither did he seem mad, nor did he seem great."

"You mean to say that the Mad King, was a nice person." He interjected. The idea seemed very far-fetched.

"Yes, if the Defiance of Duskendale had not happened, then it would seem that my father could have been called a loving grandfather. Anyways, continuing with the story. He removed all the people, that his father and grandfather had set up and had installed new and young faces. One could also say that my father became mad because of the many miscarriages that my mother had. He had befriended the young Tywin Lannister and Steffon Baratheon, his cousin. When Tywin Lannister had crushed the Reyne-Tarbeck alliance, he caught the attention of my father. So, Aerys named him Hand of the King. another blow to my father was when people whispered behind his back that Tywin ruled the realm, not Aerys. My father also lusted after, Joanna Lannister, wife of Tywin Lannister. When he had truly become paranoid, he didn't cut his hair, his nails, and looked more like a beggar than a king. The only that defined him as a king was because he wore the crown of Aegon the Unworthy. People used to say that the crown suited him."

"Well you have given me enough to think today, father. I think I will come tomorrow." He really had a lot to think about since his father had bombarded such news to him. It was heavy even for him. He went up to the deck. The ship was lurching right and left and light rain could be felt. He ran across the deck to his room. He was a bit wet by the time he reached there. Daenerys was asleep, her left cheek on her pillow and her lips parted. Oh! How he wanted to kiss those lips and feel their softness on his lips, but he constrained himself. He opened up his tunic and slept beside her in his shirt and breeches. He turned his head so that his back was facing her. He could see Blackfyre and Dark Sister propped beside each other and the dragon eggs kept in the brazier. Dany had insisted that they keep the eggs in the brazier because they both felt the heat radiating off them when they touched it. It was comforting, very much so and they would sit on his bed, Dany holding either the black or the cream egg, while he always held the green one.

"You finally came. Face me Jae." A sleepy, voice mumbled beside him. He turned his head to see her half lidded eyes, heavy with sleep.

"Sleep." He said, and she fell into a slumber. He too fell into sleep, a dream overcoming his senses. He just prayed to the old gods and the valyrian gods, who didn't know a thing about, to let this not be a nightmare.

He was walking through the storage rooms below, and could feel the ship lurching, and the thunderous pitter-patter of the rain. The storage room was filled with many items that he couldn't figure out. At a distance he could see the barrels of fish that had been kept here. His human had told him not to plunder these things so he left them alone. He kept walking until he came upon a pole. The pole was too low for him to crouch and cross and there was stuff piled above it so he could not very well jump. So he just sat on his back legs. Soon enough he heard to different sets of footsteps coming his way. He put out his head but he could not see the face of the men. He could only hear the voices, and see their hands.

"Do it today." A voice spoke. He could hear the sneer in the man's voice.

"Today is too early." Another spoke. His voice was gruff compared to the first one.

"Today is a fine day. There is Storm above deck, people will think of it just as a commotion." the first man whispered angrily.

"Fine, but I want my payment." The gruff voice spoke. He took out his hand and made a gesture. The first man handed the second one a ring. The ring was made of made up of red-gold and a onyx was fitted a top it. He seen the ring worn by his humans mate. This was the lost ring. The hand of the second man disappeared upward and then it came back down, the ring getting pocketed.

"I'll take care of my brother, Rhaegar, you take care of his bastard and my sister. And remember, i want my sister alive, along with the dragon eggs and the swords that they bore. You can do what you want to do with the bastard." The first man spoke, contempt clear in his voice. He heard the receding of footsteps. He ran as fast as he could.

He woke up sweating, and his eyes bore into the ruby red eyes of his direwolf, Ghost. A wolf dream. That was a fucking wolf dream. Ghost got off the bed as he shook Dany awake.

"What happened, Jae?" Dany mumbled.

"A mutiny. Wake up Dany. there is mutiny going to happen and our lives are in danger. Father's too. Wolf dream." He explained everything to her. He knew it was Viserys, the second he said my brother, Rhaegar. Viserys had always wanted to crown to himself, grandmother had unknowingly crowned him. Now Rhaegar was alive, so was he. Thus, Viserys became third in line for the throne. All his life Viserys called himself a King only to become nothing more than the Prince of ruins, which Summerhall had become, as the Targaryens gave Dragonstone to the first and Summerhall to the second after the king. Dany visage turned into one of horror. We both got up from our bed. He wore his tunic and picked up Blackfyre. He tossed Dark Sister to Dany and she grabbed it.

"Stay here in the room. I'll go check up on father." He said to her. She just nodded. "Keep Ghost with you." He added as an afterthought. He ran from the room. The rain was pouring like cats and dogs and their was a full blown war going on on the deck. He unsheathed Blackfyre and the first man who came at him met his demise, with Blackfyre cutting him up from shoulder to hip bone. The man's intestines came out as the man's blood splattered up his tunic. He ran forward cutting down as many men as possible. Many of them were equipped with oars. It seemed as if the oars men had also joined the war.

Them came a man with a heavy warhammer. The man lifted the hammer up and struck down but he was fast enough to avoid it. The edges of the hammer were like steel spokes while the other side was flat. It looked a lot like Baratheon's warhammer. He got enraged at it and struck at the man quickly, Blackfyre passing through the chain-mail and hitting at the mark where the heart belonged. Blackfyre literally dripped blood as if it were the fangs of a blood-sucking monster. He wrenched out his sword and advanced.

By the time he reached his father's room he was covered in blood, neck to toe, his face cleaned by the rain. Even his hair was matted. In front of his father's room he saw a man lying. The man's back had a huge sword gap, his silver hair, covering his face. Above him was another man with the same silver hair, kicking the man.

"You are no King, now are you brother. I am. When you bastard is dead I'll become the King of Westeros. You had your chance but you failed. Now I'll be great." The man seemed to be in joy. He looked at the man's face closely. Viserys. That meant the man was his father. He launched himself at Viserys, tears running down his face. He grabbed Viserys's neck trying to choke him.

"Guard." Viserys somehow choked out. At that very moment someone kicked him on his side, hard. He was thrown across the hallway his back crashing into a wall. He looked at the man. The man seven feet tall and packed with muscle. He carried a greatsword, that could cleave him in two. The man struck atb him but he rolled away. His found the hilt of Blackfyre as he met the man's next blow with Blackfyre's blade. He could not hold the man with one arm so grabbed the nearest piece of shrapnel and stuck it at the man's foot. The man just roared as he stumbled back. He got back on his feet and decapitated the man, the man's head rolling away, as he looked at the man's eyes. He ran towards his father and held him close. He could see the Kings ring, Valyrian steel with a red ruby that Daeron the second had made that his ancestors could wear instead of Blackfyre that had been granted to his half-brother Daemon Blackfyre. He took it wore it on his middle finger of the right hand. He took the nearest torch and set his father's body aflame as the Targaryens were cremated when they died. But his father would not be cremated. His ashed would go to the seas below him. Seas that he spent half his life running across. He rushed to his room towards Dany. If Daenerys died he would not be able to live.

He again ran across the deck, half in hopes to find Viserys or the man who had his grandmother's ring. He couldn't find either. He ended up in his room back. Dany was standing there her nightgown splattered with blood. There were the bodies of three men on the ground and Dark Sister hovered proudly before his eyes. Suddenly, he could feel the warmth of another person on him. Dany, he realized. He hugged her back.

"Viserys, he killed father." He managed to croak out. A steady stream of tears came out of his eyes and he found that his shoulder was also wet probably from Dany's crying. He held her by her shoulders and looked deep into her eyes.

"Leave." They were the only words he said.

"But Jae, there-" Dany tried to argue.

"No buts Dany. Leave, I'll join you I promise. There are boats at the side. Take the dragon eggs, take your dagger, take your belongings and hop onto the boat and leave. Take Ghost with you. I can't bear to lose him too. Keep his safe and he'll do the same." He explained to her. "You're Daenerys Stormborn. You were born during one of the worst storms recorded. This is nothing but a fluke for you." he told her.

She nodded, shakily. He couldn't help but lean his head in for a kiss, and had a small part of his brain kept saying the he would be rejected. But then, he felt soft lips merging with his own. He tasted the salt of their tears and the sweetness of her mouth. He was heaven for the next minute. He pulled back and saw he rheumy eyes. He rubbed her eyes free form the tears.

"Take care my Dragonwolf." She said.

"I promise, as soon as I find and kill Viserys, and find your ring, I'll join you in the sea. But for now you must go. I'll find you in the sea itself." He told her. And after pressing his lips one last time to hers he left the cabin in search of Viserys. The fight on the deck had reduced to a bare minimum level. There were bodies littering the deck, some had heads smashed, some had their entrails strew over. It was horrible sight to see. In the middle of it all he could see a lone, with silver hair, trying to fight the man who had the Dany's ring. He kept walking forward, kicking the bodies out of his way. He came near Viserys and impaled him through the back straight into the chest. He leaned in close to Viserys' ear.

"For my father, you mad fool." He snarled. He could only hear the gurgling of blood coming from Viserys mouth. He took out the sword and in an instant was hit on his head with the mommel of the sword that the man was holding.

He held his head in his palms, black spots dancing in front of his eyes. He could feel the blood on his palms. He swung wildly at the man, but the man dodged it. He could not hear anything. He swung again but missed. By the third time the man had gotten cocky, he could smell it. He swung again putting all his might in this swing and hit true, slashing at his chest. The man was momentarily shocked and he used it at his advantage. He shoved Blackfyre straight through the unguarded throat. The man fell down like a sack of potatoes. He sat on his knees and fumbled at the man's pockets, and he found the ring. He wore the ring on his ring finger of his left hand. He sheathed Blackfyre and made way to the other boats. He didn't bother with packing and sat in the boat straight away. He cut the ropes and his boat dropped into the ocean. The lied on his back and let the rain clean him. Unconsciousness took over him the next second and he knew no more.