THE DRAGON PRINCESS POV: A week after THE DRAGONWOLF PRINCE POV (CH5)
THE QUIET WOLF POV: One Day after THE WILD DIREWOLF POV (CH5)
THE YOUNG DIREWOLF POV: One Week after THE STUNTED LION POV (CH5)
THE WILD DIREWOLF POV: One week after THE QUIET WOLF POV (CH6)
THE QUIET WOLF POV: The Same day as THE WILD DIREWOLF POV (CH6)
THE DRAGONWOLF PRINCE POV: Two days after THE DRAGON PRINCESS POV(CH6)


The Dragon Princess

The sea was a dangerous place to live, surviving for three days after the storm was awful. During those days, Daenerys was very distraught. She and Jaehaerys had shared a short kiss before he left to kill Viserys. She remembered the softness of his lips on hers, his scent of pinewoods, invading her nose. She could still remember every short detail of his face and her heart wretched when she thought of him. She was still angry at Viserys for killing Rhaegar, kinslaying was never something she considered especially with so little family left. The first few days she had spent on the boat were with the company of Ghost and a barrel full of dead fish. Ghost had eaten up majority of the fish, but she had still had her fill.

She had been sailing on the vast, expanse of the ocean for almost a week, if she remembered correctly. She had still no idea as to where Jaehaerys was, 'is he safe?', but question before safe was the question of him being alive. A small, part of her brain told her that Jae had died, and that she was the last living Targaryen alive. Unless Viserys somehow escaped, which she couldn't believe, as Jae wouldn't leave him alive, even if it meant his death.

The blood red clouds of Valyria were approaching her even faster than before. They contrasted so differently with the normal blue sky, as if it looked like a battlefield soaked in blood, where hundreds and thousands of soldiers laid dead. She knew she should not enter Valyria, after all, any man or woman that had dared enter Valyria had never returned, Aurion the Dragonlord had proven it, when he had gone to reclaim the lands of his ancestors during the period known as the 'Century of Blood'. But something called to her when the saw the clouds. It spoke to her in her mind and the voice oddly reminded her of Rhaegar.

'Bisa iksis se lenton hen aōha lentor, Daenērys Jelmāzmo. Īlē naejot māzigon kesīr tolī izulagār jēdri.'

Come, come it called to her and little she could do to change the course of her boat. She had no oars and the wood had gotten hot that Ghost had trouble keeping his paws on the floor. Most of the time he laid across the width of the boat his height easily covering the width. In the night she used to turn on to Ghost clinging to his fur so that he could provide her warmth. She slept like that almost every night, not trying to bother with the dreams that came her way. Today she was wide awake, eating away at the some of the few fish that had been left. When she looked back she could see the blue ocean, but when she looked forward she could see mist covering the red sea. The fourteen flames of Valyria, beneath the sea, whose colors were reflected on the blue sky. She could see land at distance, but without a paddle it would take quite a while to reach shore. She sighed in frustration. How could she have stayed a month on the ship?

Jaehaerys. A smart voice replied to her. She smiled at the thought. Yes, she was alive on the ship because of him. With him she could be herself and not pretend to be princess. She could fight with him, she could tell him to give her massages, and she could sleep on his bed and he couldn't do anything about it. She liked that. She liked being independent, but with him around. Now she was alone, in this space, which looked more and more like a canvas painted blue on one side and red on the other, made her mind go haywire. She patiently waited for the land to come. At least in Valyria she could explore the island, as long as the environment suited her. She would not give up her one-time opportunity of seeing Valyria firsthand. She was anxious of the dark lands that awaited her, but her rational mind figured that the probability of her meeting her end would be very low. Afterall, blood of dragonlords flow through her veins.


It was near sunset before she landed on the beach of Valyria when, and the color of the sky had changed to a darker shade of red. The beaches of Valyria were not the most impressive sight that a man would like to see. There were thousands of bones, black in color, littered across the beach. Some had the shape of dragons, with their wings, the skulls bigger than the size of carriages, the others had the shape of firewyrms. She had studied all about firewyrms form the books Rhaegar had given her. Firewyrms stayed in the fourteen flames, deep, and were wild. They could not be tamed by dragon horns, that were used to control the dragons. The firewyrm skeletons that she had found were black as dragonbone, they were long and twisted, and there were no wing-like bones. She picked up the nearest bone and dug it into the sand firmly and tied a rope from the boat the bone, keeping the boat at bay. The only belongings that she carried with her from the boat was Dark Sister and her satchel of dragon eggs. Ghost also followed her like a lost puppy. She could understand him, his companion lost, and far away from his brothers and sisters on a foreign beach, filled with bones of creatures that could swallow him in one gulp. She could feel the fear rising in her, but she started walking inland until she came up to a dead end from which she could see the ruined city of Old Valyria.

Old Valyria, despite being destroyed by gods know what, was still an impressive sight to see. The straight roads made of black stone, the houses and palaces, or what was left of them, shaped in the form of dragons, made of the same stone that had made the roads. There were no rooftops, naturally, because dragons needed to land somewhere if a rider was going to ride. The roads were filled with flowing molten red liquid. She continued walking along the road, marveling at the scene that had been put in front of her. The red liquid hissed near her feet, the hem of her dress wet from the ocean, instantly dried. She was careful to avoid it for the rest of her stay.

Soon enough she came in front of a massive palace. The palace was not affected by the catastrophe that had affected the lands around it. The walls still stood strong, sphinxes with eyes of emeralds perched on the ramparts towering over her. The door was shaped in the mouth of a dragon, the tongue lolling out and the glinting teeth. She went inside the palace to see that it was a temple from inside with statues of the different Valyrian gods. She could see why the Valyrians thought themselves close to gods. The gods of Valyria didn't have a definite shape. The body was scaly, a long tail instead of legs, the stomach covered with scaled and the breasts covered with scales. In place of nipples were spikes. The face was neither of a man or a woman, it had the sternness and beauty of both, just like the Valyrians did. She went out of the temple to find Ghost sitting outside the walls staring at one of the sphinxes, not noticing that he had followed behind her into the temple.

"Well you didn't come inside with me, did you?" She asked him. She thought it was quite foolish, but she knew that he was a smart wolf. He just bobbed his head. "Well, you are creature of the north, and we are far away from your home. You do not have to venture in every building we come across." She plainly said.

With that they made their way back to the beach. The walk to the beach was a long one, or so she thought because she had seen the monuments already. Arriving back at the beach, she found a spot where she could settle down for the evening. Preparing her sleeping arrangements, she went to the boat and opened a trunk. On top was Jae's harp. She took out the harp and laid it on the boat. She took out her clothes next and wore the thickest ones she had. She knew that the nights on beaches were a bit cold. She shimmied out of her tight dress and wore the clothes she had taken out. She motioned for Ghost to come to her. She laid at the sandy beach littered with dragon bones. Unable to fall asleep, she started plucking at the strings of Jae's harp. She had observed Jae learning to play the instrument and guided herself to sleep through singing in High Valyrian and playing what she remembered. Laying on Ghost's soft fur and the cool sandy beach, sleep took her and aided her with a dream.

She was flying in the air, on great big black beast. A dragon, she realized. She could feel the thrill of the air rushing through her face, blowing her hair. The dragon beneath her roared loudly, sending vibrations to lands as far as Westeros. A reply soon came from a roar of another dragon. The other dragon was green and similar in size to the one she mounted. Atop the green dragon were two faces, one familiar and one she had not seen before. The familiar face belonged to Jae and the unfamiliar face belonged to a boy of eight. The boy had Jae's wine-colored eyes.

"Muña!" the boy shouted. "Look at me!" the boy said.

"Zōbrie, take us closer to him." She said to the dragon. She knew not where the name came from, but it automatically came to her mind.

"Muña, look!" With that Aemon jumped off the green dragon.

"Aemon!" She shouted after him.

"Mele!" Aemon shouted to the air. Suddenly, another dragon came, a red one. At the last moment Aemon grabbed the spikes of the dragon and seated himself on the dragon, Mele.

She woke up, breathing heavily. She thought about the dream. Jae and her flying above the clouds, and their son. Oh, their son, he was so beautiful. With Jae's eyes and hair, and their nose, lips. She remembered the red dragon from her dream, Mele, Aemon had called it. She looked at the dragon eggs and took the black one. Zōbrie, she thought. The black dragon from this egg was named Zōbrie. She held it close and slept again, cuddling against her white furred protector.

The Quiet Wolf

The streets of King's Landing were filthy, especially the one they were walking through currently. Sansa, Arya, Jory were making the journey with him and he couldn't help but feel a little worried. Where he was leading them was unknown to him. He had taken up on this offer of Baelish, because both Sansa and Arya had come barging into his room, telling him that they heard from the spider that their lady mother was in the city. When he said that he would go and meet her, the girls had surrounded him and demanded to see her as well. When together, Sansa and Arya made a formidable pair, and he was forced into taking them with him. They arrived at some building far from Red Keep, quickly Baelish got down from his horse first and they followed him, dismounting and settling the horses in the small stables. When they walked closer to the building he could see the whores on the balcony. He could hear the gasps come out of the mouths of the girls. How dare Baelish keep a Lady in a brothel! Not just any Lady, he had kept his wife in such a wretched establishment! Did man not fear for his life? Lord Baelish stood at the door and motioned them inside.

"I thought she'd be safest in here. One of several such establishments I hold." Baelish said. He grabbed the Master of Coin by the throat and pushed him to the wall. He could hear Baelish choke and squirm underneath his hand, but he still held him tightly. Baelish tried to tug on to his fingers, but he couldn't seem to hold on to it.

"You're a funny man, a very funny man. Heh?" He asked and threatened him in the same breath.

"Ned." A voice called him from upstairs. He looked up to see the face of his wife. He still could not believe that Catelyn had come all the way here from Winterfell. He left Baelish and moved inside to meet her. In the middle of the brothel he found Sansa and Arya looking at the people in there with disgust.

"Sansa, Arya. Go upstairs." He said to them and followed them. Upstairs he could see an old, stout man with broad shoulders and white hair. He had whiskers on his face. He recognized him a Ser Rodrik.

"My Lord." Ser Rodrik greeted him.

"Ser Rodrik." He greeted him back. "Tell me how Robb has done in holding the North?" He asked the old knight.

"My Lord, Lord Robb is doing a fine job holding the North. He has ordered the repairs of the Broken tower, which must have been finished by now, and has tasked Lord Manderly with building the Northern fleet." Ser Rodrik answered. The Broken Tower was understandable, it was the highest watchtower of Winterfell. The Northern fleet, he didn't understand. What had happened that Robb had taken such a measure? He supposed only Catelyn could give him the proper answers to his questions.

Entering a luxury room, he noticed fine furniture, properly made bed, and a table and loveseat. The appearance of the room was nice, but he wouldn't think of sitting down or touching anything in the room, considering the establishment. Catelyn herself was on the balcony. The girls flocked to their mother for a hug, graciously accepting it. The hug despite being one of reunion was not a warm one. He looked at Cat's face. Her face was one of sadness and insecurity. He needed answers to what was going on.

"How is Robb, my lady?" He asked Cat the same question that he had asked Ser Rodrik.

"Robb and Rickon are fine, Ned. It is Bran, I came to tell you about."

"Mother what happened to Bran?" Arya asked, her voice had a fearful edge to it. He looked back to Cat and could see tears forming in her eyes. He hugged her close trying to comfort her. What had happened to Bran? He needed to know what happened to his son.

"What happened, Cat. Tell us." He said to her softly. He could feel her tears soaking his tunic. He held Catelyn by her shoulders and rubbed the tears away from her eyes. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying. "Shh…" He tried to calm. "Everything is going to be fine." He told her.

"Nothing is going to fine Ned." Catelyn said. Dread settled in his stomach. The children came and hugged her again, tears forming in their eyes too. "Bran…. he is never going to wake up Ned. Never ever." Cat broke the news to them. Ned stood still, completely shocked at the words from his wife. He couldn't understand why this happened, Maester Luwin had told him that Bran would wake up?

"But, Maester Luwin told us that Bran would wake up." He told Catelyn. Cat just brought out a dagger. The hilt was dragonbone. It was at that moment he saw Catelyn's bandaged hand. His shot out and he immediately grabbed the bandaged hand.

"What happened?" He asked his grey gaze meeting Catelyn's blue ones.

"Bran was killed Ned. A catspaw was sent with this blade, made of Valyrian steel and dragonbone, to spill the lifeblood of our son. I tried to stop him, but he had backhanded me, and I fell unconscious. When I woke up, Robb told me that Bran was dead and there was a funeral being held in three days. When I asked him about the catspaw, he said that Shaggydog killed him. The direwolves are a gift from gods Ned, your gods. They will protect their family as well as they can. Please tell me that girls have them?" She explained. He gently took the dagger from her hand and played with it on the sunlight. He could see the brown on the edges. Blood, he realized.

"No…." Arya's voice came. "No, no no! You can't be telling the truth! Please, mother, father, please." By the end of it she started to hit him in the chest. He just held her as her beatings stopped and she openly cried over the death of her brother. Sansa had also gone to hug Catelyn. He moved, Arya still attached to him and hugged both Sansa and Cat. The family of four mourned at the death of one of their pack. Ned broke away first, after some time.

"Robert would have killed the direwolves if he saw them again." Ned explained. "Nymeria bit Joffrey, because he threatened Arya. They are likely still in the Riverlands, prowling and hunting." He told her. Catelyn looked at him incredulously.

"Girls go back to the keep with Jory. I need to talk to you father." Catelyn said.

"But, Mother-" Sansa tried to protest but Catelyn shut her off with a glare. Sansa meekly nodded, grabbed Arya and went downstairs.

"When do you leave?" He asked Catelyn.

"This evening." She answered. "Ned it was the Lannisters who did it." She told him. "We found clumps of long gold hair, from where Bran fell. The catspaw had twenty gold dragons. No one spends twenty gold dragons to kill a boy and only Lannisters can pay so much gold to kill a boy of seven." She tried to persuade him. Even he had his doubts about the Lannisters but without proof he could not do anything.

"We don't know who our enemies are Catelyn." He told her.

"Littlefinger told me that this dagger was his. He lost it to Tyrion Lannister in a bet." "Who could hold such a dagger like this Ned? No person gives a Valyrian steel dagger to kill someone. Valyrian steel is only held by those who can afford to keep it, and we all know that the Lannisters are the richest." Catelyn told him again.

"I'll look more into this matter." He told her.

"And then?" Cat asked him.

"And then, I'll bring what I find to Robert. I just hope that he was the man that I knew once." He told her.

"I need to go, or the others will get suspicious. Take care of yourself on the road Cat." He told her. "And keep that anger of yours in check. It is a dangerous thing." He said serious

"My anger. My, my Ned, you almost killed Littlefinger today." She said. There was a silence between them.

"I'll send the girls back to Winterfell next chance I have. This the first time they will be attending a tourney, let them have some enjoyment while they're stuck here. Then they'll journey to Winterfell, myself included after I've sorted this realm together." He told her. She nodded. He leaned down in for a kiss and she reciprocated it. Their lips met in a short, sweet kiss that would help him warm in Kings Landing. "Goodbye, my lady." he said as he left the room, to her. He met Ser Rodrik outside standing vigil, his face red.

"Take care of my wife Ser Rodrik. I charge you with her protection." He told him.

"Yes, my lord." Ser Rodrik said. He went down outside the door and saw Catelyn leaning on the balcony. He looked to her a last time before he mounted his horse and left for the Red Keep.

The Young Direwolf

The saddle design Tyrion Lannister had given him was a well-made. The saddle, unlike the horse saddles, didn't contain leather straps to bind a muzzle on Grey Wind. The saddle was simple, with cushioning, and the place to put the legs were already strapped to the saddle. It allowed better maneuvering while sitting on Grey Wind. He could stand and use Ice, without any care of hurting his wolf. In fact, he saddled Grey Wind the day it was made, and Grey Wind had taken it like fish to water. He had ordered the construction of another saddle like it for Shaggydog, so Rickon too could ride his direwolf. He knew Rickon had grown tired of staying in Winterfell all alone by himself, as he was busy with the duties of the Lord of Winterfell. The Broken Tower would be completed in the next two to three days. He had also ordered construction of the First Keep. The keep's walls were intact, but instead of a squad and round drum tower he had ordered it to be square. He had given the builders permission to repair structures damaged from centuries of weather, and to uproot the gargoyles, as long as they had an understanding of how he wanted the whole keep to look. His plan for the keep was to reduce the size to a maximum of two floors, excluding the ground floor. He had already given them a plan of how the Ground floor would look and had promised a meeting for plans for the First floor as well. Their remaining supplies would be used to make a ring fort around the keep. He had taken this idea from Maegor's Holdfast inside the Red Keep. A castle within a castle; the Starks would be safe inside it. All this caution had entrenched within him since Bran's death. He would visit Bran's crypt every day to see the stonemason's worked on his brother's statue. A Stark killed within the walls of his home had left an eerie feeling inside him. Today he would be riding with Theon and Rickon into the Wolf's Wood to cool down his racing mind, fresh air was needed. Theon had been pressing him to call his bannermen after Bran's funeral. He had also forgotten to send a letter to his cousin Arthur, because he frankly didn't know what to say. His father had kept two secrets from his everyone. One about Jaehaerys Targaryen, Jon Snow, whoever the hell he was, he was his brother, now and always. The other about Arthur Sand, his cousin, sired from his uncle Brandon, "The Wild Wolf", as the northmen called him.

"Robb, Robb, when are we going to Wolfswood." Rickon's voice came, taking him from his thoughts. Rickon was nearly four and he could talk like any other child in Winterfell but preferred to speak in his babyish voice.

"Yes Rickon, we will leave for the Wolf's Wood in a moment." He said. He picked up Rickon and went with him all the way to the kennels. Ever since Bran had died a of fiery temper had awoken in Rickon, the wolfs blood, his father had called it. His father had said that while Bran and he had a touch of it, Rickon and Arya had gotten the full force of it, leaving none for Jon and Sansa. In the kennels he saw Shaggydog, wagging his tail as if exited, and Grey Wind looking at him incredulously. He almost laughed at the scene. These direwolves were certainly as smart as them. He neared Grey Wind and attached the saddle on the wolf's back. Then he took Rickon to Shaggydog and taught him how to put the saddle on.

"See, Rickon, you throw this on him like this and then you go underneath him," he said as he took both of them underneath Shaggydog, "and then you tie the saddle like this. Get it?" He asked Rickon. Rickon just bobbed his head like a good boy. He ruffled Rickon hair as Rickon gave him a cheeky grin. He placed Rickon on Shaggydog and tightened the straps around his leg, enough so he would not fall, and not too tight, to not irritate his legs.

"Theon hurry up!" He shouted, as Theon came to his line of sight. Theon put his horse into a fast trot as he settled on Grey Wind. They rode to the hunter's gate and exited for the Wolfswood. Shaggydog ran as fast as his legs allowed him, finding freedom for the first time in many days. Grey Wind, the alpha of the pack would not be outmatched and ran after him, catching him easily. The entire time Theon's horse tried to keep distance between itself and the wolves. Direwolves grow quickly, and Winterfell's were the size of ponies.

They had made their way into the woods, the Direwolf's paws were silently crushing twigs, contrasting Theon's horse that was loud enough to warn anyone close of their presence. After further riding, Robb got off Grey Wind and sat down on ground. Grey Wind, like an obedient puppy, lay flat on his stomach, savoring the feel of the grass on his belly. Rickon was howling wildly on the back of Shaggydog.

"Not too fast." He chided Rickon. Theon came and sat beside him, his horse, tied up far away from them and his bow and quiver slung on his back.

"You need to make the Lannister's pay for Bran." Theon said. 'He won't stop will he' I thought.

"Were talking about war." He said, half-heartedly.

"Were talking about justice." Theon said, firmly.

"Only the Lord of Winterfell can call the banners and raise an army." He said to Theon, trying to explain the situation.

"Your father made you interim Lord of Winterfell. That gives you the same rights as a Lord of Winterfell. The Kingslayer is with the queen, in the Red Keep, and no one can touch him." Theon said.

"You mean for me to march on King's Landing? What would the king think of that? He will kill my father for my treason!" He protested vehemently.

"They attacked Bran. The Lannister's attacked Bran, you can march on Casterly Rock. They have already started the war. It's your duty to represent your house when your father can't." Theon argued.

"Don't talk to me about my house's duty, Greyjoy. You're not a Stark, don't claim to know the right course of action for my family." Robb said carefully, his eyes filled with anger. How could Greyjoy suggest that! Theon's face held a look of shock. He looked away not wanting to look back at Theon, but his ears couldn't hear any sound of Shaggydog or Rickon. He stood up and looked at the around, all he could see was the trees. "Where's Rickon?" He asked Theon. Theon stood up beside him and looked around.

"Don't know, he's not my family." Theon spoke with pettiness laced in his voice. Then Theon walked away, to his horse.

"Go then! Go to your weakling of a father!" he shouted to him.

"Fuck off." Was all Theon said, as he sat on his horse and rode for Winterfell.

He looked to Grey Wind. "Boy. Find Shaggydog and Rickon." He commanded. The direwolf obeyed and started to sniff around. It was just then that he heard a howl, so deep, it was broadcasting its anger. He knew that howl. Shaggydog. That meant Rickon. He quickly climbed on Grey Wind and strapped himself on with haste. Grey Wind then bolted in the direction of the howl, the rush of wind against made his blood run wild. He could only see the blurring of the trees. He stood up on his legs and unsheathed Ice from its new scabbard. The sword strapped to his back, so that it was easy for both him and Grey Wind, but he noted as the sheath, so long, stuck to Grey Wind; it would be easier for his wolf if the scabbard was attached to saddle. At a distance he could see six wildlings, all attacking Shaggydog while three more lay dead on the forest floor. Grey Wind jumped into battle and growled ferociously, announcing himself. The tall wildling didn't even have a chance as Grey Wind's teeth sank into his neck. Robb quickly cleaved the second man that came in front of him and Grey Wind knocked down the third, embedding his claws his chest. The remaining four quickly regrouped, trying to form a defensive position against the wolfs. The resistance was futile as he heard a howl, not from Grey Wind or Shaggydog. Out came Summer, with his silvery-grey fur and yellow eyes. Behind him followed a pack of wolves, probably his own. The remaining wildings were cut down like animals save for one. She was on her knees, begging for mercy.

"Rickon are you okay?" Robb questioned as he rushed towards the youngest Stark, getting down from Grey Wind.

"The bad men, they tried to hurt me, but Shaggy saved me." Rickon spoke. He was shaking, fear in his eyes from the near-death experience. Robb regretted the whole venture, he could have lost another brother. Shaking that thought away, he saw Grey Wind and Summer lock their heads together, possibly greeting each other. He took Rickon down held him tightly in his arms, letting his brother bury his head in neck.

He went back to the wildling girl, putting up a cold mask on his face. "Milord, please, milord, don't kill me, I'll do anything for you." She spoke, fear was leaking from her eyes as she eyed the three direwolves and the pack of wolves beside them.

"You'll live but Summer will keep watch on you. When he is not there, Shaggydog will." He looked at the wolves who had raised their heads when they had been recognized.

"Thank you, milord. Thank you. Thank you." She kept muttering.

"What is your name?" He asked her.

"Osha, milord." She said.

"Grey Wind, Shaggydog, Summer, come here." He called out to them. All three direwolves walked towards him.

"Summer, follow Osha, don't turn your eyes from her. When we return to Winterfell you may visit Bran." He ordered Summer. He knew it was stupid, but direwolves were intelligent animals. Summer just bobbed his head. If war was going to come, the direwolves would be an asset. If there was to be war, then the North needed gold. Wars were won with blood and gold; the north was home to strong warriors but lacked the funds for an impressive campaign. With recent events increasing tension amongst the houses of Westeros, Robb took up this challenge. It was up to him to strengthen the North while his father was gone. He would have to find the gold himself. Recent summer storms have led the free cities to demand more lumber enter the market, or so Maester Luwin has said. The north has the forests to extract more than enough lumber, and Robb would take this opportunity. The swamps of the neck could provide a few plants and herbs with later processing can be medicines to cure some illnesses. Many men die on war march from the sicknesses of camp and nature, so it would always be in their interest to have the right medicines on them. If war to break out right now, one the first things he would do as he entered Winterfell's gates would be to order Maester Luwin to write letters to all the houses of the north, small and great, calling for their banners and resources, to export to Essos through White Harbor. He would personally have to write to Lord Manderly about the negotiations of a trade route between Winterfell to White Harbor.

He first settled Rickon on Shaggydog and then mounted Grey Wind. The ride to Winterfell was a quiet one. When they arrived at the gates of Winterfell, the first thing he did was to order the guards to secure the wildling woman and place her in a room. The guards put her on shackles and she was taken away.

"Go on Summer. Go see Bran. He is in the crypts." He said to Summer after he ordered another guard to open the crypt's door. As Summer quietly left the courtyard, Robb dismounted while he could see Rickon getting off by himself. A true smile fell on his face he watched his brother. He walked towards him, picking him up and raising him over his head before setting him on the ground.

"I have a meeting with Maester Luwin that I cannot miss Rickon. Be a good boy." He said to him. "Hallis," He shouted to the master of his household guard, "Escort Rickon to Old Nan." The man nodded and led Rickon to his chambers.

He went to the Maester's turret and saw Maester Luwin bent over some parchments. He just chuckled at the sight. The same old Maester Luwin trying to read as well as his old eyes allowed him. The Maester just looked at him and addressed his lord. "Lord Robb, how may I be of service."

"Maester Luwin, I want you to write letters to all the houses in the north, large and small, that they are to contribute a certain amount of tradable goods or resources to Winterfell. They will receive compensation for their exchange after we sell them, and as their overlord we will gain a portion, say one fifth, of the profits." He told the Maester.

"And may I ask why this decision, Lord Robb?" The Maester questioned.

"If it comes to war we need to be prepared. The Northern Army stands at forty thousand strong, but we don't have the gold to sustain a long campaign by ourselves. The cities of Essos need wood more than ever, and we can meet their demand without selling our goods too low. The North has a variety of resources that could do well in the essosi market. If it comes to war, the North will be ready to defend itself." He answered.

"Very well my lord. Anything else?" Maester Luwin asked.

"Yes, tell the lords and ladies of houses Bolton, Umber, Karstark, Manderly, Mormont, Glover, Cerwyn and Reed, that Robb Stark, interim Lord of Winterfell, calls them for the celebration of the end of the harvest feast in the North, that will happen in two months. And call Lord Howland Reed here especially. I want to talk to him myself." He said.

"And what is the motive behind it?" Maester Luwin asked. The Maester had always been smart.

"You're smart Maester Luwin, why don't you figure it out yourself?" He said. With that done he left Maester's turret to his chambers in the Great Keep. On the way he found Theon Greyjoy, bags in his hands, sword on hip, and bow and quiver slung around his shoulder.

"Where are you going?" He asked Theon.

"To my bloody, weakling of a father, Stark." Theon answered.

"You don't get to leave Greyjoy. You are a hostage in Winterfell." He said to him, explaining Theon his situation.

"Well Lord Stark, you yourself told me to go to the Iron Islands. That is where I'm heading." Theon answered.

"Fine then leave. And never in your worthless, iron-scum life show your face near Winterfell's walls, or your head just might grace them." He shot back. With that Theon Greyjoy left Winterfell, once and for all. Robb Stark didn't know what folly he had committed.

The Wild Direwolf

The death of Bran had hit her hard. The brother she would play with and tease while growing up was gone. She had done everything that she could do to keep her mind off it not murder the Lannister twins. She had gone to Syrio days after her mother's visit, instead of catching cats, Syrio had her practice with a sword until her arms and legs were sore and bruised. Syrio was an expert in water dancing and the former first sword of Braavos. When she had asked why he was removed from that position he had not answered. He had given her several pointers as to how a man should wield a sword. When she had complained she was a girl and not a boy, Syrio had told her that it did not matter because she was a sword. He had taught not to hear but to see and to suppress her fear inside her. She had done exactly that for the following days, pushing the pain of losing Bran deep inside in one corner of her heart. Today Syrio had told her to catch all the cats in the Red Keep and she was going to do exactly that.

She had caught almost all the cats except the same black tomcat. The tomcat had many a times infuriated her to the point where she nearly lost it but today she was just focused on getting the task done. Her legs hurt from all the running she had done. The tomcat was sitting on the windowsill and was mewing.

"Come on." She softly spoke as she neared the cat. The cat glanced towards her. "I'm not going to hurt you." She continued. She almost reached the cat, hands stretched out, but the cat know its surroundings and quickly fled. She chased after the black tomcat, running into a part of the Red Keep she had never been to before, pursuing the chase it until she found some stairs. Stairs, it seemed odd to her. To her knowledge she had never seen anyone travel here, or the King had forbidden such. She could care less of the King's rules, she just wanted to catch the bloody cat. As she climbed down the steps the first thing she saw was the skull of massive beast.

The skull was black, pure black, and shiny, bigger than a carriage. A single tooth of the beast was bigger than her and too was black. She traced ahead, swallowing down the bile building up on her throat. She touched the lower part of the tooth and nicked herself on it. Sharp, the tooth was still sharp like a dagger. She touched the bones of the beast. They were warm to touch, very warm. Dragons, came to her mind, she had read enough history from Maester Luwin to know that the skull could only belong to either Balerion, Vaghar or Meraxes. She secretly hoped that it was Vaghar for she too wanted to become like the Warrior-Queen's Visenya and Nymeria. She had also named her Direwolf on Nymeria's honor and courage.

"He's found one bastard already. He had the book. The rest will come." She heard a gruff voice. She gasped and quickly hid inside the beast's maw, thinking that if it would have been alive how easily it would have devoured her. The beast's mouth was also quite warm, and it heated her, something which she did not want, because she preferred the summer snows of Winterfell. She could hear the man open the locks and the gate gave a squeak, as if it was opened after a long time.

"And when he knows the truth, what will he do?" Another asked. His voice was a bit thinner than the first ones.

"Only the gods know. The fools tried to kill his son. Then they sent an assassin, who finished the job. Robb Stark has proof and can march anytime to Casterly Rock. It is only the boy's father that is keeping him from starting a war, or Robb Stark has a mind for politics." The gruff one said. She heard the closing of doors. Robb was going to march on Casterly Rock to avenge Bran, or he would if father would allow it. "The Lions and the Wolves will be at each other's throats soon. War is going to come to Westeros my friend."

"War is not good right now. We are not ready, ever since, Lord Daeron brought his Jaehaerys with him, I've been confused. The boy looks exactly like a Targaryen, silver hair but the eyes are a purple shade of Wine. The boy has a lot of potential and is a formidable warrior. He also is good on political ground and is most likely going to marry Daenerys. They have become very close. But right now, both of them are lost, ever since the fool Viserys made a mutiny on the ship. They have abandoned the ship. And have sailed into the storm. And anyway, if one Hand can die why can't the other." The light one said.

"This Hand is not like the others, and besides, if you are correct then he is the Jaehaerys Targaryen's uncle." The gruff one said.

"We cannot make a move, not until they are found and have an army at their back." The light one said.

"What of the eggs?" The gruff one asked.

"The Dragon eggs according to me are the same. Cold. But to them the eggs are are warm." The light one said. They kept going on up as she came out of her hiding place. Dragon eggs. Armies. Lions and Direwolves at war. Jaehaerys Targaryen, her cousin, son of Rhaegar. The mother of the child then would be her aunt, Lyanna Stark. She quickly moved to the gate that had been opened but found it locked, she saw a way down and she quickly moved that way, her heart thumping at the information.

She walked down and down until she couldn't see anything, except darkness. But she could smell. She could smell the pungent and waspish scent invading her nose. She didn't know the way back, so she kept walking forward. Soon enough her legs drowned into water. She could feel the water soaking in her shoes and her breeches were wet. She could feel the smell of shit invade her nose as she kept walking forward. Soon enough all of her was soaked to her calves, but she kept walking forward. The smell kept disappearing and she kept on walking until she saw a brief ray of light, enter her eyes. She was momentarily blinded by the light, but she soon regained her eyes. She kept on walking to find herself on the banks of the Blackwater Bay.

The river bank of the bay was polluted with the sewage from the Red Keep. On her side of the river bank, she could see the sun dazzling in the sky, descending downwards, and a rainbow from on the sea. It was nearing evening and she had to get back to the Keep. Looking out to the sea from the shore, she could see the never-ending waters that separated two continents for miles. She turned back to the passage and started walking all the way to the Keep. It was going to be long walk, but she was determined. She to tell her father what she saw and heard.

The Quiet Wolf

He was sitting in the small council chamber, with all his lords present, bar Ser Barristan and Lord Stannis. The king too was not present, as usual, and the rest were sitting there doing their own work. For a time, it looked to him as if he was the only one in the small council who was his job. In front of him standing was Ser Janos Slynt, Lord-Commander of the City Watch.

"It's the Hand's tourney that is causing all this trouble my lords." Slynt said. Just hearing the words "hand's tourney" made his blood boil. He had gone to Robert telling him that the tourney was a cost too heavy for the crown, but Robert had just brushed it off, telling him that Baelish would arrange the funds. Now the tourney was planned to start in exactly five days.

"The King's tourney." He corrected the man. "I assure you that the Hand wants no part of it." He said.

"Call it what you will Lord Stark, ser. The city is packed with people and more are flooding every day. Last night we had a tavern riot, a brothel fire, three stabbings and a drunken horse race down the street of sisters." Slynt explained.

"Dreadful." Varys commented.

"If you can't keep the King's peace, perhaps the city watch should be commanded by someone who can." Renly commented. Renly as usual was dressed in fine cloth, like every day. A green doublet over a black tunic, with black breeches and a golden stag pin. He was dressed in both Baratheon and Tyrell colors. Green, Gold, and Black.

"I need more men." Slynt said to Renly. He could see the red rise to cheeks in embarrassment.

"You'll get fifty. Lord Baelish will see it paid." He said, glancing towards Baelish.

"I will?" Baelish questioned.

"If you can find money for the champions purse then you can surely find money to keep the Kings peace." He shot back to Baelish. Baelish just went back to his work.

"I also give you twenty of my household guard until this is over." He said to Slynt.

"Thank you, Lord Hand, ser. They will be put to good use." Slynt said, and then he bowed and left the council chambers.

"The sooner this is over the better." He said to no one in particular, taking a swing from his glass of chilled wine to soothe his throat.

"The realm prospers from such events, my lord. They give a greater chance of glory and the lowly are respite from their vows." Varys said.

"Every inn and brothel in the city are full, and the whores are walking bow-legged." Littlefinger added.

"And I am sure that there are many coins in every pocket" He said. Littlefinger just hummed at it. "Now that there is nothing to discuss my Lords." He said, and he stood up from his chair. The other lords of the small council also stood up, Renly leaving immediately, Varys giving him a short bow, while Baelish gave him a rather elaborate bow, Baelish's smiling, grey-green eyes meeting his stone-grey ones.

All of them left until only he was left. He started walking all the way to his chamber's in the Hand's tower, when Baelish came and greeted him once more.

"Lord Stark." He said.

"Lord Baelish." He said it too. "What do you need." He straightaway asked him.

"My lord you hurt me, by saying that I needed something." Baelish said in mock concern. "I heard you are reading a rather boring book?" He asked.

"Pycelle talks to much." He just said, affirming Baelish answer to his question.

"Oh he never stops!" Baelish exclaimed. "Do you know of Ser Hugh of the Vale?" Baelish asked. Ser Hugh. Why would I know the name of a irrelevant knight? Baelish glanced at him. He just kept walking wherever Baelish was taking him. "Not surprised." he muttered. "Until recently he was only a squire. Jon Arryn's squire." Baelish said, emphasizing on Jon Arryn. "He was knighted almost immediately after his master's untimely death."

"Knighted for what?" He asked Baelish. He had a suspicion that Baelish was throwing him on this Ser Hugh's way because he could be a witness. Baelish said nothing, but his eyes said it all. "Why are you telling me this." He demanded of Baelish.

"I promised Cat that I would help you." Baelish said. Dammit Catelyn! Baelish was still in love with her and only his wife would never see it.

"Where is Ser Hugh. I'll speak to him." He said to Baelish, demanding the location.

"A singularly bad idea. Do you see that boy over there?" Baelish said, pointing with his eyes. He drifted his eyes to where Baelish told him. There were two children. One was playing with something, the other was looking at them. He could tell which child Baelish meant. "One of Varys' little birds." Baelish spoke in a low murmur. "The spider had taken a great interest in your comings and goings. Now look there." He said pointing to an old man who was working. "That one belongs to the Queen." He said. "And you see that Septa over there pretending to read her book." Indeed, he saw. The Septa kept glancing at them intermittently.

"Varys or the Queen?" He asked Baelish.

"No, she is one of mine." Baelish said to him. They walked a few more paces. "Is there someone who you trust completely?" Baelish asked. Why did Baelish need to know if he trusted someone completely or not?

"Yes." He answered truthfully. Baelish by the end of it was standing right in front of him.

"The wiser answer was no my lord." Baelish said. "Send this paragon of yours to question Ser Hugh. After that you might want to visit a certain armorer in the city. He lives in a large house, at the top of the Street of Steel." Baelish said.

"Why?" He questioned him.

"I've my observers as I've said. It is possible that they saw Lord Arryn visit this armorer, several times in the weeks before his death." Baelish said. He was genuinely trying to help him.

"Lord Baelish, perhaps I was wrong to distrust you." He said to him. Baelish just smirked.

"Distrusting me was the wisest thing you've done since you've gotten off your horse." Baelish said and then he walked away. He would send Jory to Ser Hugh and him himself with Harwin would go visit this armorer today. He walked back to his tower to assign the guards their various duties. He first saw Jory and ordered him to go and question Ser Hugh once he was found, then with Harwin on his tail, he went to the stables to get his horse and ride to the location that Baelish had told him.

He and Harwin rode till they reached the top of the Street of Steel. There they found a sizable house on the road. Behind the house he could see a spacious forge where many smiths worked.

"Stay here Harwin while I go in." He said to Harwin.

"Yes, milord." Harwin nodded and held the reins of his horse while he went inside the shop of the best armorer of Kings Landing. Inside, he met with the man responsible for running the shop. Tobho Mott, was his name.

"Master Mott." He called out in the forge. All the boys and men looked towards him. Finally, a man walked forward. He was well dressed and had come with a towel to wipe the sweat building on his face from the heat.

"My Lord Hand, to what do I owe this pleasure." Mott said.

"I was informed that the previous Lord Hand visited here numerous times." He said.

"Yes, my lord. Lord Arryn came here many times. I'm glad to say that he did honor me with his patronage." Mott said. He was of course glad. After all, which wealthy man, such as Mott, would not proclaim that he had a Lord Paramount, and Lord Hand offer him patronage?

"What did the late Lord Arryn want?" He asked the man.

"Why, he always came here to meet the boy." Mott said, surprised that he didn't know that key piece of information.

"I'd like to see him as well, not to bother him." He said.

"As you wish my lord." Mott said. "Gendry." He called out. A boy of fifteen came out of his place in the forge. He was quite muscular for his age, but it did not intrigue him as he had seen what Robert looked like growing up in the Eire. The boy was wearing what people in the lowest echelons of the society managed to find. He wore a torn tunic, stitched in a couple of places, and a pair of black worn out breeches. He also wore black boots with one toe sticking out of his left boot. "Here he is. Strong for his age; works hard. Show the Hand the helmet you made boy." Mott said to the lad. The boy walked away to bring out a helmet and handed it over to him. The helmet was made in the shape of a bull's head. It was finely detailed, with an open mouth, horns on both sides, and eye sockets so that the person wearing it could see through.

"This is fine work." He commented.

"It's not for sale." The lad said almost immediately.

"Boy this is the King Hand. If the Lord wants the helmet-" Mott spoke, but the lad cut him off with a shake of his head.

"I made it for myself." the lad said.

"Forgive him my lord." Mott said.

"There is nothing to forgive." He said. He handed the helmet back to the lad. "Master Mott if you can please step away. This is a conversation I want to have with the lad himself." He said to Mott. Mott just bowed and went away, commanding the others to work. He turned his attention back to the lad. "When Lord Arryn came to visit you, what did he do." He asked him.

"Just asked me some questions milord." The lad said.

"What kind of questions?" He inquired further.

"About my work first. If I like it here? If I was being treated well? Then he started asking me about my mother." The lad said.

"Your mother?" Jon Arryn talked to some boy about his mother. Why?

"Who she was? What did she look like?" The lad said. All this time the lad was facing the floor, occasionally looking up at him.

"What did you tell him." He asked the boy.

"She had yellow hair. She died when I was young. She used to sing to me sometimes." He said. The boy was showing his head to him by now. Black hair, Blue eyes. Robert looked like this, so did Stannis, and so did Renly.

"Look at me." He ordered. The lad looked up to him. He had same cheekbones, jaw, hair color, eye color. Like the eye of the Storm. This boy was unmistakably Robert's son. Judging by his age, he guessed that he was Robert's eldest son. He gulped the saliva building in his mouth.

"What do you need the helmet for." He asked the lad, trying to divert his mind. The queen would kill him, if she ever knew about him. Robert's eldest son, bastard or not, people would clamber around him, due to him looking so much more a Baratheon than any of his half-brothers. Only Robert could protect him. With him around, Cersei wouldn't have the guts to harm the lad.

"I will use it when I go and participate in the melee." So, the lad was already going to introduce himself in the melee. Cersei, being smart, would figure it out instantly and arrange his death. He needed Robert to see him. Jon had taken interest in him, that meant something important.

"What will you fight in the melee with?" He asked the lad.

"A hammer." the lad said. So much like Robert. Hammer's over Swords.

"Could you show me it?" He asked of the lad. The lad nodded and went back to his work table and brought a hammer from underneath it. He walked to his table and took the hammer into his hands. He noticed it was lighter than Robert's Warhammer, but lad's hammer was equally bulky; he had to use two hands instead of one as the boy used.

The hammer was plain and simple, with two flat sides, so that instead of doing considerable damage, it would only break jaws. The handle was made of plain simple wood, covered with black leather. The shaft didn't seem to be attached directly to the head.

"The shaft isn't attached to the head?" He asked him.

"Yes, the shaft has greaves as does the head. They are fit together like puzzle pieces. If one wants to participate in battle, he needn't change the whole hammer, just the head, with the same kind of greaves. The grip of your hand will remain the same." He answered. Perplexing was all he thought. The boy was very good. He had to get Robert to see the boy.

"Do you want to learn how to use a hammer?" He asked him. The boy was happy and then his expression soured.

"I'm a no name. Why would you take me?" The lad questioned him again.

"I am looking for potential, noble or commoner." He said to the lad. The lad looked a little nervous, but happy, and I took that as a good sign. "Pack your things, whatever you need. I'll talk with Master Mott." The boy started packing his belongings, while he moved to the part of the shop where Mott was.

"How much for the lad?" he asked Mott. Mott turned around in surprise.

"My lord?" Mott questioned him.

"How much is it for the boy, Gendry?" He asked again. "He is in your service and I don't think you will let me take such a hardworking boy without anything in return."

"My lord he is all yours." Mott said to him.

"You truly ask for nothing?" Responding in disbelief.

"My lord, if you are adamant about it, five dragons wouldn't hurt." Mott said. Even with such a grand house in this city, more was always better Mott. He works the boy to death in the forge, and greedily takes anything he can get out of his apprentice. He took out a bag containing ten dragons. He shoved it into Mott's hand.

"Here, ten dragons." He said to Mott and moved back towards Gendry. Gendry was standing there with one hand holding a bag with all his belongings and the other his hammer.

"Are you ready?" He asked. Gendry just nodded. They walked out of the shop and to where the horses were kept. He could see Harwin, looking at him, wondering why Gendry was walking with him.

"He is coming with us." He answered the unasked question. With only two horses, he asked to Gendry take his, but boy stubbornly declined. He at the least took Gendry's bag out of his hands and handed it to Harwin. As Harwin and himself rode up the streets of Kings Landing, Gendry walked in his torn boots on the cobblestone road. Getting back to the Red Keep was not hard, the guards could recognize the Hand of the King, and they proceeded to the Tower of the Hand. Gendry was tired, pouring in sweat from the long walk, but the boy still managed to look shocked at the sight of Castle. He had never been in a holdfast before, especially one belonging to the King. Gendry tried to drink in all the sights that the Red keep offered. He motioned Gendry to move inside and pulled Harwin aside.

"Take him to my room, get him a bath. The lad is nearly my size, so open my trunk and take out a shirt, breeches and a doublet. Black would suit him good. Also give him a pair of my boots. Get the lad dressed fast, I'll be coming to see him." He said to Harwin.

"Yes, milord." Harwin said and went up to catch Gendry. He on the other hand went to wherever Robert was present right now. Robert needed to see his son. Bastard or not, Gendry was his eldest son. Soon he found where Robert would be. In his room, with Jaime Lannister and Barristan Selmy, guarding his door. He could hear the laughter and moans come out of the door. The faces of the Kingsguard were not at all flushed, unlike other peoples who would have been red with embarrassment.

"I need to see the King." He said to Jaime Lannister.

"The King is busy." Jaime Lannister replied, with a cocky grin on his face.

"It is imperative that I see the King, right now." He said. With those he shoved open the door only to find Robert on his bed, sitting and a whore on his lap, her breasts spilled out of her dress as Roberts suckled at them. The sound of the door made Robert jolt and quickly jerk his head to him. He just gave the woman a glance which told her to leave. The woman put her breasts back in her dress and scurried out of the door, closing the door behind her.

"Seven Fucking Hells Ned, didn't you see I was busy!" Robert shouted to him.

"Busy suckling the breasts of another woman, like a babe, when you have clearly important things to do." He shot back. He went and filled two glasses of Arbor Gold and he gave one to Robert.

"I named you Hand to the King. You will rule, while I feast and whore, that's not up for discussion!" Robert shouted.

"And what about your children?" He asked him.

"My children will the rule after me!" Robert shouted, his face deep red from anger. He emptied the whole glass in one gulp and proceeded to fill another.

"I want you to see someone." He told to him.

"Who?" Robert's voice had reduced, his wine cooling, his nerves.

"He is your son. Your eldest son, who happens to be bastard. Jon took care of him until his died." He told him. Robert looked at him in shock. "He is just like you, wields a hammer and is going to participate in the melee. He worked at Tobho Mott's smithy on the Street of Steel. I thought that you could take some time to teach him a few things. And his hammer is very creative. The head can be detached from the shaft. Designed and made by himself." He said to Robert. Robert still sprouted a stunned face.

"My son…. My eldest son." Robert mumbled. "Take me to see him, Ned." Robert ordered him. He looked at Robert's condition.

"You ought to get dressed first, your grace." He said to him. Robert looked at him and laughed. "I'll wait outside." He said and moved out of the door.

"Good lord, Stark. How did you manage to do it?" Jaime Lannister asked him.

"Do what?" he asked the Kingslayer.

"Make Robert forget his whore. Not even Jon Arryn was successful in that." Jaime Lannister said.

"The Skies don't reduce the Storm. Ice, it challenges, and it wins." He said to Lannister.

"Never knew you to be a poet, Stark." Lannister said.

"Kings Landing changes people." He said.

"It does." Lannister said, his smug smile having returned to his face. Remove the smugness, arrogance, and killing the king he swore to protect, Jaime Lannister could be a good companion and was already a proven battle-commander, like Robert, Lord Stannis, and Lord Tywin, to name a few. Robert came out of his door, his hair pulled back, wearing black shirt, breeches, boots and a yellow doublet, with buttons in the shape of stags.

"Come on Ned. Take me to him." Robert ordered.

"Gladly, your grace." He told him. When Lannister and Selmy started to move, he ordered them to stay put with a wave of his hand.

They started walking to his chambers in silence, until Robert spoke.

"What is his name?"

"Gendry."

"A peasant's name. It will not do. Especially not on a King's son." Robert protested.

"You can name him anything you want Robert. At least first meet him." He said.

"Orys. His name will be Orys Storm, son of King Robert, the first of his name." Robert said. "None of my ancestors, after the first Baratheon have held that name. I will bestow that name upon my eldest."

"He will be a Waters. He was born in the Crownlands." he corrected Robert over the Storm part.

"Your bastard was born in Dorne, right. Yet you named him Snow, instead of Sand." Robert said, correcting him on Jon's name. He just kept quiet, until they reached his room. He walked in the room, his eyes greeting the sight of Gendry or Orys as Robert wanted to call him. The lad was wearing black breeches, black boots, black shirt and a grey doublet. The boy looked like a man of the Nights Watch. The bys hammer was in his hand, and his hair, still damp from the bath, stuck to his forehead.

"Lord Stark, I…" But when the lad saw Robert he immediately, bowed, very low. "…Your Grace." The lad said. I gestured Harwin to move outside the door His guard did so, closing the door behind him and locked it.

"Who is your father lad." Robert asked, knowing that the boy was his.

"I don't know, Your Grace. Never knew him and my mother never talked about him." The lad stated.

"Now, now boy. Look into my eyes and tell me who your father is." Robert said, on the verge of shouting. The boy unafraid looked into Robert's eyes.

"I never knew my father, Your Grace." The boy replied. The boy was clueless.

"I am your bloody father, you fool. Tell me, can't you see the resemblance?" Robert rounded up on him. Robert was the living example of his house's words: 'Ours is the Fury'. The boy on the other hand looked shocked. He certainly hadn't expected to from working as a blacksmith to becoming the King's bastard son in a day.

"What is your name?" Robert asked him.

"Gendry." The boy replied, his voice seemingly not unaffected.

"From now on, you will be Orys Storm, son of King Robert, the first of his name." Robert said. The boy just nodded. "I know your mother gave you that name, but she didn't expect this to happen. You are a King's son and the name Orys hasn't been gifted to any other Baratheon, bastard or not, since the First Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, until now. You should be honored to carry such an important name." Robert explained the boy. The lad accepted it without any protests, or he had just learned not to piss off his father and follow orders.

"Does anyone else recognize you by face or name?" Robert asked him.

"Milord..." Orys started but was cut off by Robert.

"My Lord. That is how you speak properly." Robert corrected him.

"My Lord Hand's eldest daughter, Lady Sansa, came to Tobho Mott's shop when I was still working there. She commissioned two daggers. For whom I don't know." Orys answered. Sansa, commissioning two daggers? What was she going to go with them? He needed to talk with Sansa.

"Have you made the daggers?" He asked Orys.

"Yes. When you were taking me, I packed them with me. Lady Sansa told me that I should participate in the melee with her help." Orys answered.

"Give them to me. I'll talk to my daughter about this and give you the purse for your service." Orys went up to his pack and brought out the two daggers. The daggers were finely made, of castle forged steel. It had fresh scent about it. The hilt was made for a woman's hand and was plain with brown leather. The daggers could be easily hidden. "I'll take my leave then Robert. I need to talk to my daughter." He said leaving the room. He made his way to Sansa's room, solely to speak to her about the daggers, and Orys Storm.

The Dragonwolf Prince

He had no idea how many days it had been since he had gotten off the ship. He had been unconscious for quite some time after the night of storm. After regaining consciousness, he tried to figure where he was, looking at the red clouds above him, reflected by the volcanoes below him. His throat was parched, and he didn't know how long he would survive in this godforsaken ocean. He had lost hope in almost everything, all but one thought. To see Daenerys again. The thought kept him going, believing that when he would get to land, he could see her once more. The volcanoes beneath remained inactive, granting him a safe passage to the great island, and ruined city of Valyria. He could see the faint outline of the beaches its beaches. He wished that he would find something on the island to aid him. Something that the Valyrians of the Old might have put under spells. Anything at all would do. Water, food, clothes. Even his connection with Ghost was very low over here, and he couldn't warg in him to see where Ghost and Dany were. Whatever saliva that came into his mouth, he swallowed to soothe his throat. His whole boat was practically burning from beneath, but he didn't feel a thing being more tolerant to heat than. He kept looking at the beaches that came in front of him. From midday to near dusk, the shoreline was still in front of him, yet so far away. As more of the beach came into his view, his boat slowly rocked itself forward. The beach was completely cleared of anything. There was no driftwood or signs of what was inland. All he could see were a few black bones, scattered here and there. As the shore neared, he got up and put a bit of pressure on the side of the boat. The wood snapped, his feet sliding into the water. The water was very hot, pain besieged him as he screamed into empty waters. He quickly took his leg out of the water and scratched himself on the wood. He grabbed Blackfyre and got out of the boat on the sand and fell on his arse. He examined his leg. It was angry red in color and he could see blood coming out of the various scratches he had gotten. He folded his breeches so that it wouldn't burn the scratches and then stumbled along the coast line.

He kept walking as the sun fled west. It seemed as if the coast would never end. Giving up with his first idea, he instead walked straight into the island. The city was the most beautiful thing he had seen in his own life. It gave off its own aura, similar to Winterfell but so different. It was like a homecoming that he had never received. He just wanted to lose himself in the black roads, the black walls, the topless towers, the sphinxes, gargoyles, wyrms and what not. Every decoration was bigger than the previous one, every tower and fortress belonging to someone else. He thought of which of these palaces may the Targaryen's had occupied in their stay. He knew that Aenar Targaryen, had left Valyria due to the dreams experienced by his daughter, Daenys the Dreamer. If the Doom hadn't come to Valyria, then maybe, his mother wouldn't be Lyanna Stark, and he would live here. He didn't want that. He wanted to have Lyanna Stark as his mother, the She-Wolf of the North. He wanted Eddard Stark and Benjen Stark as his uncles, and he would give anything to have Ghost back in his life again. The great white direwolf was a part of him, someone he couldn't bear to lose.

He continued his journey down the impressive roads, dodging the sluggish red liquid whenever close to his path. He noticed there were also black rocks that gave off steam, what causing their emissions he did not know. This ruin was once an ancient city where the world's most powerful people lived. People who didn't come from the normal stock, easily identified by their striking beauty, silver-gold or platinum hair and eyes the shade of purple. Only his eyes were different from their traits, being a wine shade of purple. A distinctive feature that would make him easily identifiable.

He came across an impressive palace that made Winterfell look like a farmer's hut. The door was shaped in the form a dragon's mouth, sharp teeth and glinting and tongue lolling out. Even while looking docile the teeth gave him shivers. The door was guarded by two sphinxes, bigger than him eyes made of cut out emeralds as big as his face, if not bigger. He went inside the mouth, thinking that he was entering the stomach of the fearsome dragon. He kept going until he ended up in a hall. In the hall were fourteen statues, each very big with a pedestal. The statues were unlike anything he had ever seen. They had a scaly body and instead of legs there was a tail on which they stood. The stomach covered with smooth scales, and the breasts were also scaly with nipples in the shape of spikes. what drew his eye was not the Gods of Valyria, even though they were very impressive. His eyes were glued to the lonely figure kneeling in front of a God, praying to it. The figure's silver-gold hair was unbound, falling like waves touching the floor.

"Daenerys." He said, his voice choked with emotion and hoarse. The figure turned around. It was her. He could recognize that face anywhere. Dany stood up and looked at him, tears in her eyes

"Jaehaerys!" She cried. Her voice was thick. This was one of the many times she had called him using his first name, otherwise he was just Jae to her, like she was Dany to him. I rushed forward, ignoring rush of pain in my leg, and wrapped my arms around her. She was safe, she was fine, she was with him. He consoled himself.

"Why?" She asked. I was confused by the question. As if knowing I was confused she rephrased her question. "Why did you leave me. You promised me you would not." She said to him.

"I had no choice Dany. I had to end Viserys. I also have your ring." He said. With that he took out the ring from his pocket and pressed it into her palm. "I promise, I will never leave you again." He said, promising to her. With that he pressed his lips to her drinking from them. In the dark ruins if Valyria, the Dragon's were lost no more.


Bisa iksis se lenton hen aōha lentor, Daenērys Jelmāzmo. Īlē naejot māzigon kesīr tolī izulagār jēdri: This is the home of the your family, Daenerys Stormborn. You were meant to arrive here after four hundred years.
Thanks to My Beta William_the _Conqueror.