Wild Wolf

by Vimesenthusiast

Fed up with life in Nerima, Ranma runs away, only to be followed by Happosai, who has a magic scroll he want to try out. It works but Ranma suddenly finds himself in Westeros replacing the champion chosen by the old gods in a time of great peril for humanity. How will the world change with the Wild Wolf raised in the den of wolves? A lot. Thanks to Naj. P. Jackson for the picture.

4. Chapter 4

I don't own Ranma or Martin. Mores the pity, since I would have stopped both authors from making the mistakes they did. Ah well.

Minor rant: OH MY FUCKING GOD, I hate it when I look through fanfiction and I see Mpreg and yaoi shit. Mpreg is just fucking wrong, I don't even think it's right if it's a sex-changer. Yaoi is easy to avoid if it is marked correctly, but having Harry/Hermione as characters and then saying Harry/Draco (I just threw up a little in my mouth) without stating Draco as a character in the summary is a fucking trap worthy of an admiral Ackbar impression.

Fem Harry is another pet peeve, but I suppose it is okay so long as she's not paired with… well any male really. Sorry, I just don't get it.

Anyway, I recently got into Transformers fanfiction, and I thought I could do something with that universe – not so much one generation or another, but all of them cobbled together. I really like the Arcee character from Prime, though I am wondering about a woman's perspective on her and on the original Transformers universe, So Janissa, what, if anything, do you think about it?

If anyone is interested, PM me, and I would be very willing to exchange ideas, see what other people think. Frankly lately I've come up with a lot of ideas (Ranma X Sailor Moon, HP X Star Wars, Ranma X Transformers, HP X HOTD, HP X HSDXD, Ranma X X-men, Ranma X Oh My Goddess), and I might, just maybe, be creating a one-shot archive. Not certain though.

I want to thank all of my reviewers, thank you for your continued support. This is, in many ways, the most ambitious project I have taken up, not only in complexity, but in the number of characters, and the type of original tale.

I realized writing this that I made another mistake: I referred to Stannis as Robert's Regent while Robert went north, but it was in fact Renly – for some reason I got their names confused in my mind. I have gone back and corrected this.

I would like to thank Jessolt for his work as a beta, without him this chapter like all my others would be nowhere near the level of writing they are now. I'd also like to thank Wal Otter for a bit of this, he'll know which bit, and special thanks to Trinel for answering some nitpicky questions about ASoIaF that I could not get from the wiki or my own memory.

Chapter 4 Shadows Hide Many Things

It took the marsh hunters a while to figure out how to transport the giant lizard lion, since it was actually far bigger than any of the hunting coracles, but no one complained. A prize of this nature came along once a generation. Eventually, Meera, after searching rather forlornly for her pike, ordered several of the crannogmen to tie their boats together, allowing them to then tie the giant beast to them all in turn. During this, Meera also satisfied her curiosity about why this mature lizard lion had been in an area with so many humans around. It turned out that the bull had lost its testicles at some point in the past month or so. Such a thing wasn't really common because their testicles were protected behind an armor plate that only receded when it was time for the actual mating since, like with many animals, mating was more akin to rape than anything else. This time however its chosen female had some more fight in her than this old bull had expected.

It took them an hour to tie the beast's carcass down on the boats, then another hour to get back but word had gone ahead of the party and they were met at the edge of the solid ground around Moat Cailin by two worried parents and a worried direwolf.

Meera jumped straight from the foremost boat up onto the pier and was swiftly engulfed in a hug from her father, her ribs creaking a little for all that she stood a full head higher than him. "If I'd known what a monster was out there lass, I'd never have let you go." His low, rasping voice was even more scratchy than normal with emotion. Lord Reed turned to Ranma. "Thank you for saving my daughter, Ranma Stark."

Ned was never one to show much affection in public but the hard handclasp he gave his son and the pride in his eyes was more than enough to show Ranma what he felt. Ranma, flushed a little at that and the looks of respect in the surrounding soldiers and hunter's eyes, tried to change the subject a little. "I'm sorry father, I lost the blade house Glover sent me for my last nameday."

The sword had snapped in several places after Ranma had rammed it up into the lizard lion's mouth during the beast's death throes. After it had finished thrashing around, they had only found the tip of the sword still lodged in its mouth, the others having been flung out into the muck and mire, or possibly ingested, Ranma wasn't certain which, nor did he care.

Ned barked a laugh. "Ha, a cheap price to pay for that beast, my son, and for the two of you returning safe and whole."

At that point, Meera began to tell the tale of how she and Ranma had killed the giant beast, a tale that drew several more clumps of feasters to her. Surprisingly, Robert was not among them, having retired early to his tent with a crannog woman. A little while later, Howland asked Ranma what he wanted to do with the carcass. "As it was you who killed it, it's yours Ranma. The armor of this beast would compare well to even full plate and be much more flexible. That is what I'd recommend for you to do with it, though we don't have a blacksmith or leather worker I'd trust to do the job here. Even if we did though, it would take weeks of hard work to create a single suit of lizard armor."

Ranma thought for moment, then smiled faintly. "Could you send the skin to Winterfell? I would trust our blacksmith there to work with your leather workers to make the most of this find. I'd like for it to be made into armor for myself, Jon, Daryn Hornwood, and Ed Karstark. We're all of a size after all, so fitting out Jon would make armor for the rest of us. The bones and everything else, they can be used to make bows and handles for blades, correct?"

"Aye, they ain't as good weapons as dragon bones but they actually make better bows, or so tis said. From such a carcass as this, we could make at least a dozen composite bows." an old hunter, face gaunt and aged with lank white hair answered, tapping a short bow by his side. It was only when he did, that Ranma realized it was white and yellow, the color of bone rather than any wooden color.

"Then let's do that as well, as many as can be made, for my siblings but also for Meera and the other heirs of the noble houses." We might not have come up with the name ourselves but we are wolf-sworn and, like a pack of wolves, though we are apart, we are together still. After Howland agreed to do that, smirking slightly at his daughter's gob-smacked expression, the group began to break up, the King's party knowing they would be out on the road early the next morning.

OOOOOOO

Used to waking up early after so many days on the road, Myrcella was the first to get up. Even if the party wouldn't set off for a while yet, the children had to be ready to go quickly, along with the Queen. She pouted as she looked around, not seeing Ranma around waiting for them, which had become a fixture on this trip. She knew it was silly of her but that hadn't stopped Myrcella from developing a crush on the oldest Stark sibling. Despite his, at times, stern Stark features, Ranma was warm, kind, outgoing, and funny to go with his obvious strength. All the things she would love to see in a betrothed.

I know it's hopeless, she thought to herself as she entered the inn's bathing area, which the Queen had taken over entirely the evening before for their party. Her body moving on automatic, Myrcella began to undress after testing the water in the tub. The bath was warm, heated by a hearth or something underneath it, she guessed. For one, Sansa and Joffrey are to wed, regardless of my own feelings about that, so there is no need to tie the Stark family to ours with another marriage. For another, Ranma already has a betrothal lined up. And for a third, he treats me more like a sister than my own older brother!

The young girl pouted as she looked at herself in the large mirror that Cersei had dragged along on this trip. She cupped her barely formed teats for a moment, sighing. Maybe if I were older or had already started to blossom, then mayhap if Sansa and Joffrey didn't work out, and fat chance of that happening, I could somehow convince my parents of it but no, that's wishful thinking at best. With a final sigh, Myrcella moved over to the tub, getting in and sighing luxuriantly while waiting for the Queen, Sansa, and the others.

Later, she saw Joffrey, who had elected to stay here in the inn rather than 'rough it' at the Moat with their father, the King. He was once more regaling Sansa with a made up tale of prowess in some form or another. No, Myrcella realized, Joffrey was reciting poetry to the naïve northern girl. I wonder what Sansa would think if she knew those poems she gushes over weren't originals he made up on the spot for her but ones Joffrey stole from professional poets out of the Reach? He's only changing the name of the woman in them, for the Seven's sake! While still very young, Myrcella had spent almost her entire life in the court and knew when someone was putting on a false front, especially her own older brother. She had also heard that exact poem before, sung in honor of her mother at one point.

Myrcella frowned, however, when she noticed, as Sansa turned to address Jeyne, the look of vitriol Joffrey sent Tommen's way as her younger sibling raced up to her, smiling. Myrcella, in an act she would never have even thought of doing before this trip, quickly crossed the distance between them, pulling Tommen around behind her while glaring back at Joffrey.

His eyes widened for a moment, then he glared at her as well before he smoothed his features back to normalcy as their mother came out to usher them all up into the coach. Tommen looked up at her questioningly but Myrcella merely shook her head with a smile, then made certain to sit Tommen as far away from Joffrey as possible in the carriage.

About two hours travel time took their much smaller band to Moat Cailin where the rest of the party was waiting for them. Myrcella gasped in astonishment, a sound that drew the attention of the others in the carriage, causing all of them to look out of the window. By the road leading north was the carcass of a monstrous lizard lion, which was being held up on a huge skinning bed.

The King, Lord Stark, Ranma, and Lord Reed all stood by it along with an older girl she didn't know standing beside the diminutive Lord Reed, with the Kingsguard and the rest of their party already on horses nearby. As the carriage came up level with them, Myrcella could hear her father saying. "By the Seven lad, take me with you the next time you go hunting! You certainly find more interesting game than I have in many a year!"

As the others around the King broke into laughter with their King, Tommen went wide-eyed. As soon as the carriage stopped, he ignored his mother's hissed instructions to stay put and bolted out of the carriage toward his hero.

Joffrey followed, more because he knew that his father would once more insist on his riding rather than remaining in the carriage, than because he was really interested. The oldest Baratheon sibling saw his father nod cordially at Tommen, an acknowledgment that, despite how lukewarm it was, none of the Baratheon children had ever seen from their father before. Hate for his youngest sibling curdled within him and he glared daggers at Tommen's small back. Cersei noticed the nod as well and wondered what it could mean for the future but didn't see, or perhaps willfully ignored like so many other things, the look her oldest son was giving her youngest.

On the other hand, Myrcella noticed it once again. Even as Ranma modestly waved off Tommen's entreaty to tell him the story behind the massive lizard lion, she watched Joffrey through narrowed eyes, wondering what her older brother was going to do. She blushed faintly as Ranma looked toward the carriage, his blue eyes alight with humor. He bowed in their direction, then turned and, after raising the youngster into his saddle, grasped the reins of his horse. He then made his way over to them, already spinning a tale for Tommen. "Ah, I'm bored of telling that tale already, Tommy. Besides, its short and not very funny or interesting. How about this one: There once was a kingdom, whose inhabitants were so strong and powerful they were called demons by their neighbors. Now, to the royal family of this land was born a princess, who longed for adventure. Her chance to get away for a bit was realized when her nation decided to invade a very tiny neighboring nation. Instead of conquering it however, the demon kingdom always gave their opponents a chance, deciding their invasion by contests of all sorts, including simple games. This time they decided to see who would win a game of tag, between the princess or a randomly chosen noble of the country they were invading…"

Sansa blinked then looked at Jeyne, who shook her head. They hadn't heard this story before! Ranma smiled warmly at his sister, before ruffling her hair, affectionately, ignoring her pout with ease while nodding in Myrcella's direction, causing Myrcella to smile at him shyly.

Around them the cavalcade got going. Lord Stark and Lord Reed had put their heads together to think up ways to make this part of the trip move faster resulting in Ned commissioning boats to carry the luggage and many of the servants while the party continued on horseback (and carriage) down the causeway. The boats carrying the food would come out of the secret waterways to abut the causeway every evening. In this manner, they would be able to go faster. This part of the trip was no fun for anyone so even Robert was fine with speeding their way through. The party would eat the midday meal while moving, no afternoon stops, no hunting or carousing, simply because the view in the Neck was not one anyone but a crannogman could love.

As Ranma regaled the children with tales of the Tomobiki district near Nerima, where the insanity was greater even if the amount of combat was much less, the last of the soldiers mounted up and they moved off. Behind them, the smallfolk started to carve up and skin the lizard lion for its trip to Winterfell. Even starting with the softer belly shell it was very tough going, making it obvious that the hide would make extremely good armor, even if the cost of making it would be quite high.

Lord Reed stood and watched the party move down the causeway through the massive gates of the one wall that had still been intact from the old castle, wondering what his friend Ned would face, hoping against hope that he would take his words about not trusting other people's honor to heart. In a pocket of his cloak, he held two letters that would go north with the lizard lion, which he dearly hoped would not be the last such missive sent, even if he would not be the one delivering the others.

OOOOOOO

Greywater Watch was not much of a castle, being more a large wooden palisade around a single two story keep made of stone. Despite this, it was next to impossible to siege because it was impossible to find in the first place. Greywater was built on a crannog, a man-made island that moved randomly over the waters of the Neck, which made it impossible for any invaders to find it. This was the seat of House Reed, Lord of the Neck.

At present, of course, Howland was absent but his wife, Jyana, and his young son, Jojen, were still present along with their servants and a few guards/hunters. Here in the marsh, there were no men-at-arms, although every man knew his way with a pike and most crannogmen were expert archers and hunters.

Jyana spent much of her time these days looking after her youngest child, who had collapsed several weeks ago like a marionette with his strings cut. Since then Jojen hadn't opened his eyes or even stirred at all. So it was with shock that Jyana saw him awake when she came in from grabbing a tray of food for herself. She moved forward quickly, laying a gentle hand on his brow. "Jojen, oh my son, I am so glad you've woken up. You've been in some kind of fever dream for the past few weeks! How are you feeling?"

Jojen did not answer his mother directly, instead staring past her shoulder further north. When he spoke, it was in the riddles of a seer, a talent the Reeds had known he possessed for many years, though Jyana thought it more a curse than a gift. "The eyes that have been closed may yet be opened. The future has changed, yet the green abides. The choice must be made between the green and the builder." It was only after he finished speaking this odd line that the ten year old boy looked at his mother with eyes far older and wiser than his years. "I must go to Winterfell."

OOOOOOO

Three weeks after she had taken them, Catelyn's wounds had at last receded, allowing her to talk at a normal level, something all her family and advisors were happy about, save for one. Rickon had at first welcomed his mother back to health but when she ordered him to continue to take lessons with Lady Jonelle, that had faded rapidly. She still refused to leave the healing hall for long but this didn't stop her from becoming more active in the family and the castle. Still the healing area became an impromptu center for the castle business, with Catelyn throwing herself into the work even as she kept one eye on her still comatose son.

A few days after her recovery, Catelyn sent a servant to fetch Arya to her. It was nighttime by this point, and Catelyn stood at the window, staring out into the dark. The window's panes had been repaired, but it was open now, allowing in the night air as well as letting her look out over Winterfell. Snow had fallen since the last time she had taken in the view and Catelyn shivered at the bite of the cold of the North, which seemed sharper somehow today than it had been since she arrived here all those years ago as a new bride.

She looked around at a diffident cough behind her. "You wanted to see me, mother?" Arya was dressed in her regular garb of pants and an overlarge coat. Nothing about it told of her station and it almost erased her gender from view, which made it a sort of example of the problem Catelyn had called her youngest daughter in to talk about.

"Come in Arya, and sit down." Arya did so, looking at her mother warily as Catelyn sat across from her at the small table that had been moved into the healing hall. The mother stared at the daughter for a time, then spoke. "You are my daughter, a highborn woman, yet you dress in rags like that in an attempt to run away from it. I have long allowed you some leeway, allowed you to follow your dreams of wielding a blade because of the agreement I made with Ranma. Yet you and I have never talked about why I felt that such lessons were a waste of time. I have only ever tried to cajole and browbeat you before this. Since it has obviously not worked, I have decided to try a new tact, explaining, in as blunt terms as I can use, why women perform an important job in our society."

Arya stiffened, fighting an urge to run, but stayed put, one hand on Nymeria's head, where the direwolf pup had placed her head in her mistress's lap. While not as large as Ghost, Nymeria was still already the size of a regular wolf, despite only being a bare five months old.

Having noticed her daughter's trepidation, Catelyn smiled faintly but her words were deadly serious as she spoke. "The role of women of stature in our society is to be the bridges that hold that society together by the oldest way imaginable, by that of blood." Arya looked up at her in surprise and Catelyn went on. "A wedding between two Houses can be used to improve the station of one House, to ensure the loyalty of one House to another, to forge alliances between Houses of the same stature. A marriage can win your family power, possibly even broker a peace between warring families or even nations. Eventually, as a Stark of Winterfell, you will be called upon to marry to make the family stronger. As such, you must know the skills all girls of your stature know, the better to bring more suitors."

At this point, Arya had held her silence as long as she could and now she exploded, years of silently building frustration and anger coming out. "I hate that! I hate it, hate the idea of only being important because of what my, my maidenhead can bring! I want to be my own person, to be important in my own right rather than as simply a, a bridge between our family and another! Why can't I be free to make my own way in the world?!"

"Would you be willing to give up your family to achieve that dream?" Catelyn asked archly. "Would you leave your siblings, me, your father, and Winterfell behind for such an uncertain future?" Arya's silence was her answer and Catelyn smiled faintly. "I know that you hate this but your hate will not change what is. Yet, nor will I continue to try to change you."

Arya looked up in shock at that while Catelyn's smile turned grim. "Times are changing, winter is coming like the family motto says and softness in winter can spell death. If you are to be married, the man you marry will know precisely what he gets, a wolf as well as a lady." Arya smiled at that, but Catelyn's next words brought her down to earth. "Yet, I will have your word as a Stark, here and now, that when the time comes to do your duty, you will enter into it with, if not happiness, then at least understanding because it is your duty to your family. I will try my hardest, and you know your father will as well, to find you a match with a man who will appreciate you for who you are, but your marriage may be too important to put off for reasons such as that. Until then Arya, you are free to continue your lessons with Dacey with my blessing, so long as you also continue you lessons with Jonelle on decorum, the maester with history and with me in land management."

Arya frowned heavily but the allure of getting her mother's blessing for training now won over the far distant unpleasantness of marriage. After all, she had years to go yet before she had to figure out a way out of that. "I swear it mother, so long as the man isn't too old, smelly, or boorish, I won't make trouble when the time comes."

"I suppose that's the best I can get." Catelyn chuckled quietly. "Now, tell me about the battle that occurred a few days back." Arya looked at her quickly to see Catelyn smiling coldly at her. "Did you think I wouldn't see through that flimsy lie you and the others concocted? Please, I'm your mother, I know these things."

The question and answer section when on for a time, then Catelyn told Arya to find Jon, wanting to speak to them both. When Jon entered, Catelyn immediately asked him, "So did you find anything out from the prisoners you took? And why didn't you mention the fact you took prisoners to me after the attack occurred?" She refrained from mentioning his choice to let Arya fight. She had meant to take him to task strongly about that, but Arya had defended him, saying she would have followed anyway. Dacey wasn't off the hook just yet, but that could wait.

"Nothing concrete, ma'am. Just the fact that their leader had found someone who was willing to pay for them to sack Winterfell. I've sent a runner to the Wull to see what he can tell us about this, predominately how such a large band of men moved through his territory unimpeded. The mountain clans should have taken these men to pieces in their mountains. Instead, they came out unscathed and within striking distance of Winterfell without being seen. If I had found anything concrete from the prisoners, I would, of course, have told you."

Catelyn waved that off. "Was there anything to tie the attacker's mysterious benefactor to the Lannisters?"

Jon spoke carefully, not liking the way Catelyn seemed to brush off what he said about none of their prisoners having known anything. "I apologize, Lady, but again, there was no proof of who their backer was. Moreover, this was set in motion long before the King arrived. The travel time through the mountains for a group of any size would be measured in months, not weeks. No ma'am, this has nothing to do with the Lannisters."

It was obvious this did not sit well with the former Tully woman, whose hot-blooded nature sometimes came to the fore. Yet she reined it in for now. "Very well, I'll concede the point. Though I think the Lannisters are somehow behind this, I won't allow myself to concentrate on that to the exclusion of all else. Now, on to more immediate topics: I understand that you, Ser Rodrick, and Maester Luwin have between you been dealing with the running of the land. Arya and I will both now be taking part in those decisions."

Arya looked at her in surprise and some consternation but Catelyn merely smiled grimly. "You want to be the equal of a man then you will have to take on the duties of a man, as well."

That made Arya's back straighten up, and she nodded resolutely. "I am a Stark of Winterfell, mother. I will do my duty."

Life in Winterfell passed relatively quietly for the next few days as the furor over the attackers died down. Dacey (after a very uncomfortable talk with the Lady of the House) remained in Winterfell as Arya's mentor/bodyguard/trainer. Hathan and his new retainers moved on to his new holdfast, taking with them some servants, who were working at jobs below their abilities here in Winterfell.

Theon had left the day after Catelyn's… discussion with Dacey, headed to White Harbor with Ser Wendel and his party, who were returning home with the plans for their part in supplying the whelming. Ser Wendel bore a letter signed by Lady Catelyn and Rickon asking for Theon to be given an advisors role in their supply operations, as well as two sealed envelopes for their Lord. One was from Lord Stark prepared before he left, detailing some plans between the two men, as well as asking Lord Manderly to ask his factors for any news they could get their hands on the man thought needful for Ned to know. Wyman Manderly was among the most intelligent and far thinking lords of the North. Both Catelyn and Ned respected 'the pufferfish's' political acumen. This was why Catelyn had chosen to send her own letter to the man, updating him on recent events as well as giving her own opinion about them and asking for his opinion.

Arya, while not having much to contribute, did indeed join the meetings to discuss readying the White Knife for supplies, making certain all the farms in the area were producing as much as they should, and gathering in supplies. Men also began to ready the winter village (the large village that surrounded Winterfell that was practically empty save for the whorehouse and the market) for inhabitants while at the same time preparing Winterfell itself for more people. The crispness of the night air, the heaviness of the clouds in the sky, the random snowfall, all of it pointed to one thing: the coming of winter. Arya only had something to contribute when it came to the construction aspect and, even there, not much but she was at least trying her best. With Catelyn there as well, she didn't allow her irritation at being forced to be part of the meetings to be seen.

This new routine was interrupted several days after Lady Catelyn recovered from her wounds. As had become usual, the extended family of the Starks and her advisers had dinner in the healing area, something that had at first confused and irritated the servants, but they had long since gotten used to it.

Most of the time, the direwolves would be outside playing at this time of day since Lady Catelyn still wasn't over her, rather irrational in her daughter's opinion, fear of the beasts. The only exception was Bran's direwolf, who simply hid under his bed when someone tried to force him out of the room. He never growled, barked, or anything, unlike Shaggydog, who had become quite wild before Lady Jonelle took Rickon in hand. Thankfully, it seemed as if the boy's self-control and education had an effect on the direwolf pup as well. So used to the presence of Bran's direwolf had Catelyn become that she didn't even notice his growling as she, Jonelle, Arya, Dacey, the maester, and Ser Rodrick sat down to dine.

Jon might have but he wasn't here this evening. He and Ghost had gone on an expedition to House Mollen to see how they were coming with their project of taming the White Knife in their territory. He was due back the next day and his report would be very interesting indeed. It turned out that the White Knife could be tamed enough to allow medium-sized barge transports. Lord Dorrel Mollen had found a young man who was a genius at creating pulleys and levers which aided the effort tremendously. They could even be used around the occasional waterfall found along the White Knife.

The meal had been over for a few hours at this point but they all lingered around the table going over business, even Arya, since her mother kept glaring at her every time she looked as if she wanted to run off. Now, however, they were talking about something that interested Arya a lot and her attempts to leave stopped.

"So the next shipment of food and other supplies will be ready before the White Knife has been tamed, unless Jon has something surprising to say about the progress being made on that project. We'll be faced with a choice, either to keep it here, try to send it up to the Wall by land, or over to the White Harbor overland. Your thoughts, Ser Rodrick?" asked Catelyn. Her eyes were shrewd as she looked over at the master of arms, who was Jon's second in command of the whelming.

"It would be faster to send it to White Harbor, milady. A convoy of foodstuffs traveling up to the Wall would take a minimum of six months, maybe longer if the conditions worsen. From here over to White Harbor, two months and then another week and a half, going by Lord Wendell's estimate, to get it up to the wall."

Maester Luwin asked, "So, when our men plus those of Hornwood and Cerwyn arrive, how many men will the Nights Watch have on the Wall?"

Ser Rodrick reached over to a pile of parchment on the table but Arya beat him to it, pulling out a piece of paper that a raven had delivered to them that morning. "It says that House Umber's first group of troops have already arrived and the Karstark men have been sighted and are nearly to the Wall. So plus ours… Lord Hornwood is sending six hundred archers and spearmen… Flint of Flint's finger is sending up five hundred, I think Jon said… I would say that would put their total numbers at around… more than five thousand, with two thousand being our men." That last was said proudly, Arya being proud of the strength her family could call on.

"A goodly number, for any defensive action." said Luwin, smiling a little at the girl's eagerness for anything involving battle. "Until one thinks of how large the Wall truly is."

Dacey waved that off however. "The Wall is such a strong defensive position that any one man on it is worth a thousand or even two thousand attackers. Yes, you have to spread them out, but," she paused shaking her head a little, one hand going to her stomach as it grumbled at her. "Y, your pardon I seem to be feeling a little ill for some reason. W-where was I?"

Ser Rodrick put his stein of beer down looking at the younger woman quizzically and shook his own head, one hand going to his own stomach. "I'm, my stomach is…

Arya clutched her stomach for a moment, fighting back a wave of nausea.

Lady Catelyn stood up abruptly. "Excuse me a moment." She ran out the room, heading towards the nearest garderobe. Arya and the others all stood up as one, almost, with Arya rushing over to the single window of the healing hall. The adults rushed out the door, with the men swiftly moving towards the nearest arrowslits, tearing their shutters open and heaving the contents of their stomachs out the narrow windows, while the women made for the nearest garderobe.

Not even two minutes later, the servant who had brought them their food came into the healing hall, smirking villainously. He was not a man known in Winterfell, for he, in fact, was not a normal servant. The excuse he had given for asking for employment was that he needed some money to purchase enough food to get him back to his home in the lands controlled by Flint of Flint Finger's but that was a lie. In fact, he was a cut purse, a murderer for hire, though nothing like the trained assassins of the God of Many Faces. He was simply a low level sort of vermin that could be found practically anywhere, even here in the North.

He had agonized for weeks on how to do this job. He had even thought at one point to simply give it up as a bad job, to take the money he'd already been paid and run with it. But for some reason, he had decided to stay with it, possibly because it had been the Crown Prince who had hired him. Yet, more likely, it was because Joffrey had threatened him with the Hound, who terrified him as any big dangerous predator would a smaller predator. This man well knew he couldn't hide from someone like Sandor Clegane, no matter how long it would take the Hound to find his scent.

Nonetheless, it had taken him weeks to think of a way to get the Lady Catelyn out of the room and for the furor to die down enough so that the guards on the door would no longer be present. A mild dose of food poisoning, mixing in tainted raw meat with the heavy chowder had done for that well enough. It would be several hours before any of the ones who ate it would recover, including the two guards who had eaten prior to the family eating in their room. Of course, it would raise suspicions but by then he would be long gone.

He stopped however when he saw Arya at the open arrowslit, cursing internally. He hadn't realized the window in this room had been repaired, since before this it had been covered by a wooden panel. Before he could think of what to do, Bran's direwolf crawled out from under the bed and stood before him, growling angrily, his teeth bared.

The man froze as Arya turned from the window, her face green and one hand on her stomach, but still in charge of her faculties enough to realize what the man was trying to do. "Wh-what are you doing!" One hand scrambled at her side, but Fang was in her room, Catelyn not wanting her armed at their evening meals.

"What does it look like, you little wild bitch." the man muttered, his eyes locked on the direwolf in front of him. He'd heard what the things could do in defense of their masters. It was well he had, because at that moment the wolf charged him, mouth open.

Arya threw up again but her mind was working despite this. The moment she recovered, she opened the connection she had to Nymeria and sent a desperate thought down it. Pack mate danger, come to me!

In front of Arya, the would-be assassin sidestepped left, trying to stab the direwolf with his knife in an overhand blow and catching the animal a glancing blow along the neck. But this was a mere nick to the direwolf, who turned his head and snapped at the murderer's hand in an attempt to mangle it. The man cursed, stepping backwards, his knife once more between him and the wolf. He lunged forward with the weapon in an underhand grip, trying to get the direwolf in the eye.

The direwolf sprang backwards but still was caught by the knife high up in one shoulder, which tore a portion of fur off, adding to the number of scars this direwolf had gained in its fight with the previous assassin. He yipped and backed away still snarling, while on the floor Arya had thrown up again, cursing how useless she felt right now.

The man grinned and pressed forward, but at that point the door to the healing hall banged open. Suddenly, Shaggydog and Nymeria were there, bounding forward, snarling. Before he could turn to face this new threat, Nymeria had her teeth in one of the man's legs, ripping and tearing at the hamstrings behind his knee.

"AHHHGG!" The man fell to the ground screaming, waving the knife wildly, but Shaggydog dodged in, grabbing his wrist in his mouth. He wasn't big enough to simply bite it off like Ghost or Fenris could, but he could tear a large chunk out of it, rendering that hand useless. "YEEEEE!" The man screamed again high-pitched, yowling in agony, but that ended abruptly as Nymeria went for the kill, ripping out his throat.

Even as the alarm was raised in the keep, the servants and guards responding to all the screaming, the pack moved together. Shaggydog and Nymeria began to lick at the wounds Bran's direwolf had taken, rubbing their heads against him consolingly. Nymeria turned to her mistress but was waved off, as Arya, leaning back against the wall underneath the window, looked at the bloody corpse, then rubbed her stomach. Strangely enough, the sight of the dead man wasn't making her any sicker.

A sound from the bed drew her attention. She and the wolves turned to gaze happily at the sight of Bran, sitting up and yawning in bed. He looked at the three direwolves and the dead man. But rather than be aghast or scared, Bran merely nodded and reached out to his direwolf with one hand. His bonded partner moved forward hesitantly, at first, then with more enthusiasm licking and snuffling at his master's hand. Then he finally had time to look at his sister. "Hello, sister, you stink."

Arya raised one fist at him mock threateningly but couldn't keep the wide grin off her face. She made to stand up but her stomach gurgled at her and she turned to throw up once again out of the window. Seeing this, her brother shook his head.

Bran felt as if he had come out of a waking dream, although the reality of what lay on the floor made him wonder if the dream was over yet. The sight of his sister being sick was odd but at least he could understand it, unlike his dreams. In them, Bran had been flying, his spirit flying in the air, as he had longed to do for so long, and then he was falling, falling into an abyss constantly, never in control, never able to find his way back home and back to his body. Then the three-eyed crow had appeared, who somehow Bran knew was more than a mere crow, even a three eyed one. It had led Bran home, led him back to his own body.

Now Bran slowly slid out of the bed, testing his legs and finding them a little wobbly because of all the time he had spent lying down. He sat down on the edge of the bed, taking his direwolf's head in his hands and gently stroking his fur.

The moment Lady Jonelle had joined her in the garderobe, Catelyn knew there was something wrong. After a few minutes, she forced herself to her feet, ignoring through sheer willpower the urge to throw up again and rushed back to the healing hall. She looked inside and gasped in horror at the sight of the man on the ground, with the direwolves all sitting around him, looking between her, the bed, and her daughter, who was covered with some of her own sick and leaning against the room's open window. The bed however held a sight that drove her horror of the dead man's corpse out of her head. Bran, her second son, her baby, her darling dreamer, was sitting upright and smiling happily at her.

"His name is Summer," Bran said, patting his newly christened direwolf on the head. "Because though winter is coming, summer is always the hope of man."

OOOOOOO

Jon came back the next day, taking a page out of Ranma's book on the last day of the journey to get back that much faster. He ran the entire day, breathing deeply and easily as Ghost bounded alongside him, leaving behind the five men-at arms that he had been traveling with.

He waved at a few guards he saw on the walls of the Keep, stiffening slightly as he noticed their alert, guarded movement along the wall. Suspicion darkening his mind, Jon raced into the keep then up to the still guarded healing hall, where he found Bran and his direwolf sitting in bed together, while the maester once again went over them.

The maester hadn't recovered as quickly as Catelyn or the others had, being an older man and not nearly as hardy. Still, he was on his feet now and going over everyone who had eaten that evening. It hadn't just been the Starks and their advisors; it had also been their guards and several others that had eaten from the same ruined meal. Even so, all of them were on the mend. It was obvious that the murderer had placed the tainted food into the soup to get just this reaction.

Catelyn, sitting up in another bed nearby and watching her son with joy in her eyes, looked up as Jon entered. "You missed a bit of excitement, Jon." she said dryly.

Jon looked at the dagger on the table as well as the bloody coin pouch, then his now awake brother and asked simply "What did I miss?" Bran and Arya filled him in while Jon picked up the dagger, looking at it carefully. "This is a Valyrian dagger, I recognize the characteristics from seeing Ice. Who would give this to a common cut purse, whatever their mission?"

"I know precisely who." Catelyn replied coldly. "One of the Lannisters." Jon looked at her skeptically but she nodded her head firmly. "I remember one of them saying that he had won that knife off the King. I can't remember who though. I think it might've been the Imp."

Jon, however, was much more skeptical. "What possible reason could Tyrion have to try to assassinate Bran, especially after all this time and given the fact he was wounded in the first attempt? I will warn you again, milady, don't get so focused on one answer that you neglect to search for others. Who knows, someone else might have won that dagger off Tyrion after that conversation."

He picked up the bloody pouch, opening it, and pouring out the money, whistling a little as the coins poured out. "Gold dragons again, five of them. Someone had money to waste. Which argues against it having been the Imp, he's not so frivolous as all that, and he didn't have much money to call his own."

"Maybe he spent it all on paying the man who tried to kill Bran!" Catelyn exclaimed angrily. "Why can't you see that they are involved in this?!"

"Because there is no real proof." Jon answered back calmly, keeping his own temper under control with ease, emphasizing his words with the very calmness he said them with. "There is supposition, there is possibility, but there is no real proof to connect any Lannister, let along Tyrion, to this crime. All we can tell from this is that Bran saw something that someone is still terrified of letting anyone know about."

That line of thought derailed Catelyn's growing anger at Jon not seeing the truth as she thought of it. She wanted to blame someone for this assault on her son. She wanted vengeance but Catelyn knew she had to wait and choose her target carefully; she couldn't go haring off in search of vengeance. With Ranma not here and with Bran only just recovered and still so young, she had to stay here to watch over the family.

She trusted Jon, of course. Over the years since Ranma's revelation she had come to see him as a nephew of sorts and did not hold his status as a Snow against him. However, other people would hold that status against the family if it looked like they trusted a bastard born too much, thinking them too trusting and gullible. It would also bring too much attention to him and some might question his origins if that occurred, bringing ruin on the Starks.

She turned to look over at Bran. "Can you remember anything, my son?"

Bran looked up from where he had been staring into Summer's eyes, shaking his head sadly. "I remember waking up that day and thinking I might go kind climbing to find the nests of some birds I noticed by the Old Tower but that's all except, except for golden hair and someone saying 'the things I do for love'. It was a man's voice, but that's all I can remember. I'm sorry." he finished, looking a little morose.

"Don't be, Bran." Jon said moving over and pulling him into a firm hug. "I'm just glad you're alive and well, your memories of what happened are more than a fair exchange for that." Bran snuffled a little, grabbing his older brother in a hug. Jon stood there for a moment ruffling his hair and smiling over at Catelyn who smiled back along with Arya.

Sitting next to Catelyn, Lady Jonelle smiled too. She had been one of those who had thought it odd that Jon was so well loved by the Starks and most particularly Lady Catelyn. But seeing him with Bran like this made it clear that Jon had a good soul to him. Though Jonelle didn't think she would have been strong enough to put up with one of her husband's baseborn children, it was obvious Catelyn had moved past that.

After a moment however, Catelyn brought their attention back to her with a gentle cough. She winced a little, one hand going to her stomach, frowning thoughtfully. "Maester Luwin, will the food poisoning have affected my pregnancy?"

Luwin shook his head. "There are some types of food poisoning that will have such an affect. my lady. However, this one won't have any long term effect on you or the baby." He looked over at Jonelle, who had stiffened with trepidation at Catelyn's words. "Nor will it have affected yours, Lady Jonelle, despite how far along you are."

The Lady of House Cerwyn breathed a sigh of relief and Catelyn decided to move back to the former topic of conversation. "Despite what Jon said, does anyone here not think that there is something going on down south, that this is not all connected to some larger scheme or plot of the Lannisters? The golden hair, the knife, my sister's message, the knight who hails from the Westerlands trying to kill Bran… the clues are building up. More and more, I am convinced that my husband and my oldest children are walking into a snake spit and I am stuck here, unable to help." Catelyn growled.

That sound actually made all the direwolves look at her in the wolf equivalent of surprise. They then resolved to be very respectful to the angry pupping mother.

None of the people in the room answered her for a moment. Not even Bran spoke up, though he looked a little quizzical, as if he couldn't quite follow the conversation. Jon moved back from his hug, patting Bran on the head. "I'll fill you in later."

He looked over at Lady Catelyn once more and shrugged. "We already called on your father to lend Lord Stark some men in Kings Landing, we could send a message to your sister, ask her for more proof against the Lannisters, or for aid in the form of men for Lord Stark, but that's all I can think of at present."

"We could send messages about this latest occurrence to the Red Keep," the maester thought musingly, "but I would wait until we can be reasonably certain that Lord Stark is there before doing so. Leaving a message like that unattended strikes me as a very bad idea. But that would tell Lord Stark that there was more to what Bran saw than we assumed."

"We could send another message to grandfather, mother." suggested Arya. "If I remember my geography lessons right, he could send a rider with a message to intersect the King's journey south."

Catelyn shook her head. "I like the idea of sending my father a message, but Lysa seems too overwrought to be trusted. I already sent two messages to her asking for more proof, one immediately after the initial attack on Bran and one after I recovered from my wounds. The one message I got back held no more proof than the first and was even more hysterical."

Luwin nodded. As master of ravens, he saw most messages as they came in. The Starks were aware of this and trusted him to not read anything he shouldn't. "I have seen that message and I agree that your sister seems too stressed to be trusted. There is more than grief in that, however, there is also fear. And people who are afraid can do odd things at times. I would recommend we give her time to get over the shock of her husband's death and time to let her son grow some more before we trust her state of mind."

Catelyn suddenly smiled, thinking of another family member she could call upon. One who she would swear would not have forgotten their family motto of 'family, duty, honor'. "Actually, don't send a message to my father. With his declining health, I don't want to put anymore strain on him. No, I have another place in mind for it…"

OOOOOOO

The trip through the Neck had been easily the most boring part of the trip so far, with the unchanging landscape on either side of the causeway, the lack of hunting for Robert, and the buzzing of bugs and odd noises from the bogs. Thankfully, it was also rather quicker than the trip down from Winterfell to the Moat. With the supplies and the servants who couldn't ride brought along by boat, it had taken two weeks to traverse the length of the neck. Every evening, the boats holding the parties supplies would come up to the causeway through secret waterways known only to the crannogmen, allowing them to set up camp, eat the evening meal, and replenish their daily supplies. This made the trip much faster than if they had to travel at the pace set by the carts. Even the carriage, with two teams of horses instead of one, didn't slow their pace down all that much.

Still, it was a relief for everyone when they began to see regular trees and solid ground ahead of them that was not part of the causeway. Once there, the servants began to reorganize the party's supplies as they came off the crannogmen's boats at a tiny wharf near where the causeway connected into the rest of the Kingsroad.

During this, Ranma shucked off his heavy wool and fur coat, as well as his chain mail for a moment, switching to a short sleeved leather jerkin. It had been getting noticeably warmer with every day they traveled south in the Neck, and it was very noticeable now. It wasn't warm by any means just yet, but it was solid autumn weather. The jerkin, however, was rather tight around his shoulders and Ranma grimaced a little. "I'll have to let this one out around the shoulders, father." he said looking up at Eddard who was leaning against his horse's side beside him.

Ranma ignored the looks he was getting from some of the female servants and, most especially, the look Jeyne was giving him with the ease of long practice. Jeyne had been pining away at him for years but she was not his type with a capital 'Oh Fuck No'. It wasn't even funny how not his type she was.

By his side, Fenris scratched behind one ear with his hind paw. The direwolf was now larger by a head than any dog or regular wolf and, judging by the size of his paws, still had quite a bit of growing to do. Before he finished up, Ranma estimated that Fenris would be as large as a warhorse. That would be interesting, especially if his strength was proportionate to his size...

"That will give you something to do for the evening. We won't be moving out from this place for until tomorrow, I would estimate, before all of this is ready to go again." Ned replied, looking at his son and smiling faintly as he saw the youngest Baratheon standing by his side, scratching at Fenris's neck.

Ranma grunted agreement then looked over at Tommen. "Come on, Tommy. We can get some training in while the servants are doing their work." Robert nodded approvingly at Tommen, causing the young boy to swell up with pride at finally being acknowledged by his father before chasing after his personal hero. They hadn't gotten past muscle exercises yet but Ranma had said he would start teaching him some speed exercises, as well as finger and wrist exercises.

Nearby, Joffrey scowled, staring at Ranma and his younger brother hatefully but quickly wiped it off his face as his mother came out of the carriage. Cersei looked over at Robert and Tommen as well. She had noticed this before; Robert actually acknowledging, for the first time, one of his children in a positive manner. In truth, she was rather torn about it.

She hated the man, no, worse, she loathed him with every fiber of her being, but if he acknowledged one of the children like this, then it might argue against certain…truths if they came to light, which could only help in the long run. Yet she needed to watch out for another reason. If he chooses to name my babe, my darling baby, as heir over my little lion, the consequences for my plans going forward could well be large indeed.

Cersei frowned thoughtfully looking at Robert through narrowed eyes, stepping aside to let her daughter, Sansa, and Jeyne out of the carriage. It might be that I need to move up my plans a bit to combat that…

Myrcella and Sansa knew nothing of the Queen's inner thoughts. They were best of friends by this point, along with Jeyne to a lesser extent, and the trio of girls stayed together as they watched the work progressing before the septa came out of the carriage, moving a little gingerly. The long trip was not doing her any favors and she had caught something while in the Neck which had sapped her strength further. But she grabbed all three of the girl's attention easily enough, moving them over and beginning to go through some etiquette lessons with the trio.

It was more busy work than anything but she didn't want any of her impressionable young charges to be near the work being done on the wharf, since even from here she could hear the cursing of the crannogmen and the servants as they tried to reorganize the jumble of packages and supplies. This was made more difficult by the fact many of the carts and drovers had turned back to House Cerwyn when they entered the Neck, not having been given leave by their lord to continue. Varys tried to negotiate with them to go on but they were all adamant at turning back, as their lord had commanded. Without Ned's aid, who backed them, Varys made no headway.

Eddard's approximation of the time needed to get the convoy moving again was spot on and the group bedded down by the wharf that evening; many of them in the small huts that the Neck's merchants used and others in tents with the men-at-arms in tents all around the royal family and the Starks. The trio of girls shared one hut with the Queen, her chief handmaiden, and the septa, while Robert and the men shared one, along with, to Ranma's disgust, Varys. He didn't like the eunuch, considering him a greasy little asshole. Having heard from Robert and others of his pederast tendencies, now every time the eunuch was near him, Ranma's fists itched. Alas, as master of whispers, his position was such Ranma couldn't simply kill him and dump his body in the Neck, as much as he wished to.

Around them the work continued through the night, readying the party to depart the next day.

With the warmth of the day, came the willingness of the Queen to actually get up without aid and she did so the next morning, looking around quizzically as she noticed that her daughter and Sansa were not in their cots. She looked over at the entrance to the small hut they had commandeered for the ladies and saw Jeyne leading them out. She sighed angrily. In her mind, Jeyne was a bit of a gossipy troublemaker and Myrcella and Sansa were all too willing to follow her lead at times. This wasn't the first time the trio had gone off during one of the stops, although she wondered what they were up to this time. Surely, there were no rabbits or other wild 'cute' animals around or anything else at this time of day that would interest three young ladies?

Cersei decided to follow them and got out of bed quietly, pulling on a dress, same one she had one last evening. She would normally never wear the same thing twice but it was ready to go and she wasn't about to waste the time to get more prepared for the day. Who knew what mischief the trio of girls would get up to in that time? She followed them swiftly, the ease of long practice allowing her to steal along quietly. Many a time she had met Jaime for one of their trysts in such a manner and she was easily able to move through the slowly waking crowd of servants and men-at-arms.

She was surprised when the girls reached the edge of the camp and kept on going, making her wonder once more where they were off to.

The evening before, Jayne had seen Ranma exercise with Tommen in one of the streams that fed into the neck. She also knew from long experience that Ranma got up in the early mornings to exercise. Watching him exercise was one of her (many) guilty pleasures. So, if he wasn't outside their tent/house waiting for them, it was obvious to her that Ranma would be exercising somewhere.

Ranma was indeed exercising in the middle of the stream, a small fast-moving stream about two yards across and only coming up to his knees but still nice and cool. He was also shirtless, his flat, exceptionally toned stomach and abs on display, the powerful corded muscles shifting visibly under his skin, his tanned skin making the scar along his side and on his shoulder standing out even more. If there was a single ounce of fat anywhere on his body, it wasn't apparent. He was going through some kind of exercise, hands and legs thrusting out quickly, moving in a pattern of some kind like he was dancing in place. None of the watchers knew it, but Ranma was going through one of the advanced katas of the Anything Goes School of martial arts. It was designed to increase your speed, as well as your coordination and agility.

Jayne blushed a little, licking her lips as she stared at Ranma's abs and shoulders. She was far and away the most experienced of the trio, though still technically a virgin, and to her Ranma was just yummy. Sansa simply blushed and looked away, furtively taking glances out of the corner of her eye at her older brother while internally castigating herself for doing so. Myrcella being the youngest and most innocent of the trio, at least in this manner, was blushing so red she looked like a ripe tomato.

Behind them, even Cersei was effected. Despite her love for her brother, she could see that Ranma was a magnificent specimen of man. Perhaps I should step up my seduction plans even further than I had previously wished to. she thought to herself, it might even be amusing if he can actually use that magnificent body for more than combat.

However, right now, Cersei was more than a little irritated at Jayne dragging her young, impressionable daughter out for this. She reached around them, one hand cupping her daughter's mouth. The other two turned at the sound of Myrcella's muffled squeak. "I think," she said icily, "that you three should head back now, don't you? It is unseemly for young ladies to be spying on a boy like this. I am certain the septa would be more than happy to prepare some sort of punishment for you all."

Thoroughly cowed by her stare, the trio nodded quickly and ran off back to the cabin they had commandeered. The queen took one last glance of Ranma, then shook her head and moved off after them, grateful that the boy had his eyes closed and had not even noticed them, so intent was he on his exercises.

If they had stayed longer, they would have seen Ranma stop his present kata, then jump into the air moving through another one, throwing out kicks and punches faster than most men could even see. Moments later, Fenris appeared out of the woods, attacking his master to signal the beginning of his own training.

OOOOOOO

The party got underway a few hours later with nothing else happening, though Tommen wondered why his sister was so red in the face when Ranma picked him up from the carriage. He soon forgot it when Ranma began another tale from Tomobiki.

As the two trotted forward, neither of them saw Joffrey glaring at them, from the back of the column, for once. The Crown Prince turned to the Hound, saying simply. "Tonight. Gather some of the men, I think it's time that the Stark heir be brought down a peg."

Sandor nodded agreement and moved off to do his patrons bidding, inwardly thankful that Joffrey had agreed that he shouldn't participate, the better to not link the attack back to the Prince. Later that evening, Sandor had gathered five Lannister men-at-arms and told them it was time to teach the Stark boy some humility. All of them were in agreement, the Northern boy had to be brought down a peg, though not being fools, they were leery about doing it themselves. However, when they saw that Ranma had, for once, elected not to sleep outside of the tent containing his sister and the other children, instead sleeping out beyond even the outer edge of the campsite, they agreed more readily.

Joffrey met up with them, giving them some final instructions in a low voice. "I don't want any visible bruises on his face but anything else is fair game. Beat him into within an inch of his life, make him scared of his own shadow."

The men grunted agreement at that, grinning evilly. No matter how much stronger, faster, or more durable Ranma was, he couldn't beat all of them, especially if they got a drop on him while he was sleeping, right?

"Wait!" Joffrey said suddenly thinking of something. "In case you're seen by any of the others, pour some wine and ale over yourselves and drink some ale for your mouth. Make it seem as if you're drunk."

Ranma didn't know why Jeyne, Myrcella, and Sansa were all of a blush whenever they saw him today but had decided to remove himself from their presence a bit until they got it under control, whatever it was. Then too, the forests here were different from the forests at home and Fenris was eager to explore.

Now, his body lay there on his sleeping roll as his mind flew with Fenris, zooming through the trees, all his senses acute, looking for small furry things to hunt or even large furry things to fight. Fenris wasn't picky. It wasn't as if he was hungry, but it never paid to let one's skills flounder.

So deep was Ranma into his wolf trance that he didn't even notice the knights standing around his bedroll. One stood directly over his head, staring down at him evilly, then brought down a wooden staff, trying to smash Ranma in the chest. They were under orders not to kill him, just to beat him up a lot, so he aimed for the ribs rather than the head.

There had been no sign that Ranma was awake or had any knowledge of what was going on around him so it came as rather a surprise to his attackers when Ranma's hand lashed out, caught the end of the staff, then flipped the man over him into the woods.

It was only by chance that the man didn't shout or otherwise make a loud noise at the sudden shock of being thrown through the air, but the 'thunk' as he hit a tree was rather distinctive. To their credit, his fellows responded quickly, moving in, and slamming their own cudgels and staves down towards where Ranma was sleeping.

They found out the same thing that their now unconscious comrade had, as had several people in his old world. Genma had basically attacked Ranma every night while on their training trip and, sometimes, even in Nerima to build up his situational awareness. He had done it so well that Ranma had basically developed sleep-fu. His body responded automatically to any attacks on his person while he was asleep.

So as Ranma was rousing from his trance, his body was still defending him. By the time he was actually aware of what was going on, two attackers had been thrown to slam into a nearby tree and one of his attackers was limping badly from a fractured ankle.

Ranma woke up grunting irritably, even as his body, still on autopilot, grabbed the last person who was about to attack him by his arm, pulling him in before slamming his elbow straight into his temple, knocking the man. Before the unconscious body could fall, Ranma stood up, grabbing it around the middle them tossing it onto the two unconscious men clumped by a nearby tree. The man with the fractured ankle tried to get away but Ranma caught him by the back of the neck and almost gently smashed his head against a nearby tree, knocking him out.

"I wonder what caused this little bit of amusement." Ranma muttered, reaching down to grab two of them up by their scruff of their coats. He jerked backwards however at the smell coming from them. "Drunk, you're all drunk?" he asked incredulously. Fenris, at this point, had come back from where he had been hunting. He sidled up to his master with the first attacker, dragging the man along by his jerkin, though, by his soulful eyes, this was not exactly pleasant for the direwolf. Ranma knelt by the comatose man then shook his head as he smelled the same overpowering smell of spirits from him as he had from the others.

He stood up looking at all five of the men for a moment. "I'm not going to get any answers out of you lot and, by the smell of it, I don't think you'd have good ones to give anyway. Woo, what a pong!" He grinned suddenly, and then ripped off the leggings and arm sleeves from one of the man, before tying his four fellows together, crotch to face. The fifth man, he simply propped on top of the pile. With that he turned away, rolling up his bedroll with a whistle on his lips.

Nearby, well out of sight and well hidden deeper into the campsite, Joffrey growled angrily. Then he turned to Sandor. "After he leaves, cut those fools loose. We'll need to think of something else."

The Hound grunted irritably, yet inside he was very relieved he hadn't been part of the attack. It looked as if the boy had been feigning sleep, just waiting for them to attack, and if so... Sandor shuddered, but after Ranma and Fenris left their former position, moved to do it his master's bidding.

Meanwhile, Joffrey continued to watch Ranma as he walked through the sprawled out campsite, anger and hate churning in him. So I can't do anything directly to him, little humiliations will have to do, and maybe a change of target as well…

The next morning as the party was leaving, Ned sidled his horse up to his son, who had just lifted Tommy up onto his. "I notice that you are getting more glares than you were before last night." he said rather obliquely. "Did something happen?"

Ranma chuckled, making certain that the strap around Tommen was tight before turning to his father, a wicked grin on his face. "Nothing of consequence, no. Just some drunks trying to make themselves look tougher than they really were, that's all."

At his father's interrogative eyebrow rising into the air, Ranma elaborated. "Five men at arms wearing the Lannister colors tried to attack me in my sleep. They were all drunk and I think it was probably about that time back in Winterfell where I kind of humiliated the Crown Prince and his 'chosen champions'."

Eddard could almost feel the sarcasm in the air when Ranma use the words 'chosen champion'. "I see, but they were drunk, you say?"

"Yep, their breath smelled of it, their clothing smelt of it, someone had a real party last night and wanted to beat up on me for their after party treat." Ranma laughed while Tommen chuckled. "It didn't go the way they thought it would."

Ned frowned some more, but given his son's nonchalant manner in regards to the attack, he simply nodded. "Very well, but do try to not make any more enemies, please. Humiliating the Lannister men-at-arms is one thing, but if you do it enough you might draw the ire of the Queen and the Crown Prince again. This will be tough enough without you making enemies like that."

Ranma shrugged, moving toward his father and whispering so that Tommy couldn't hear his next words. "I think that I've already made an enemy of the Prince. I've noticed his glares my way a few times, but I'll try."

"That's all I can ask." his father replied in the same manner. "Have you had gotten a chance to find out more of the Prince's character?"

"Other than his being a braggart and a liar, no. Joffrey's always telling tales and using poems as if he'd been the one who invented them for Sansa's benefit, but that's it. You could ask his father, you know? There has to be something behind the Kings contempt for him doesn't there?"

"One would hope, though I'm afraid the King allows his relationship with the Queen to color his actions with his children. There is no love lost there, if you haven't noticed."

"Really, gee, I hadn't noticed father." Ranma said, sarcastically rolling his eyes, causing Ned to chuckle a little.

At that point they were interrupted by Robert bellowing "Ned, we're moving! Get up here!"

Lord Stark nodded again at his son, reaching down to pat him on the shoulder then moved off moving towards the front of the column where Robert waited for him. After his father left, Ranma turned to Tommy and asked "Now, what was the last story I told you?"

As the horse began to move with the rest of them and Ranma began to move along with them, Tommen replied. "The rich lord appeared, and vowed to woo the demon Princess away from the weak knight."

"Okay…. Ahem… Now torn between two men, one chasing her, and the other one being chased by her now, Lum was left in a bit of a conundrum. She actually hadn't been getting anywhere much with the knight who had so surprisingly beaten her in their game of tag. He didn't seem to like her attentions, rather chasing after everyone else in a skirt. So she decided to use a magic game from her country to figure out who she was most compatible with…"

OOOOOOO

Over the weeks since Dominic had opened Daenerys' eyes to what might be happening around them, Daenerys had been teaching herself how to sneak around. She found she was actually good at it. So long as she didn't actually look like she was trying to sneak around, people in the mansion automatically overlooked her. As such, she had found the magister's treasure room but it was always locked, leaving her no clue as to what they could be using as barter to the Dothraki. She had also followed the two men around the mansion, trying to find out what kind of deal they were trying to make with the horselords. Despite this, she was no closer now to figuring that out than she had been when Dominic discussed it with her.

Finally, she had to concede she was getting nowhere by herself and went to Dominic for more advice. The Northerner had become something of a true friend to her, despite his reservations about sharing information about the North with them. They had actually had a bit of an argument about that because, until she had learned the truth about how the old Lord Stark had died along with his heir, she had never seen a real difference between the Starks or the Lannisters. Both of them, in her opinion, had been dogs of the usurper Baratheon, both equally at fault for what happened to the King, her older brother's wife and his children.

Dominic had described how the two had died in detail, his voice calm from beginning to end, then asked her simply, "What would you have done?" He then went on to tell her about the days after the sacking of Kings Landing, when as a young squire he heard that Ned wanted Tywin and his family punished for their sack of the city. Lord Stark thought the sack went well beyond what should've occurred, as well as what happened to the children, calling for the head of Gregor Clegane at the very least. It was the only time that Lord Stark and Lord Baratheon had argued. It could have led to their friendship being forever derailed if not for their shared grief over Lyanna bringing them back together a few months later.

She found Dominic in the solar, strumming on his balalaika while gazing soulfully at one of the maids of the house, who was gazing back rapturously at him. Daenerys rolled her eyes. Dominic had been cutting quite a swath through the female servant population here, with his 'not from around here looks' and his dashing manner they were easily able to look past his maimed hand. The music apparently helped quite a bit as well.

She coughed to get his attention and Dominic looked up in surprise before rising from his chair. He bowed pleasantly to the maid, gesturing grandly with one hand. "I believe I am needed, we should try this some other time, yes?"

The maid blushed prettily, then moved towards the doorway, bowing to Daenerys before exiting. She nodded at the servant before turning back to Dominic, shaking her head. "I do hope you're being careful. I don't think magister Illyrio would take it kindly if you put half of his staff in the family way."

"Oh, I'm quite careful and there are certain concoctions that can help prevent such which I make certain that all of my dalliances take the next morning." As Daenerys laughed and moved towards the now vacant seat across from him, Dominic took a moment to look at her. Despite her womanhood coming rather later to her than was sometimes the case, she was definitely showing signs now of growing into a radiant beauty. Sixteen now, she was slowly losing that rangy, gangly look that girls of that age sometimes went through and was putting on pounds, gaining curves in all the right places. Even from when he first saw her until now, which was only a bare six months, the difference was apparent.

What wasn't apparent at first glance, was the inner strength of the girl coming to the fore. Now safe and with the ability to learn from the magister's library, Daenerys' intelligence and knowledge was growing daily. Helped, Dominic was certain, by the fact that Viserys was only rarely around to breathe down her neck, out and about as he was with Illyrio. She was also quietly charismatic. There was just something about the Targaryen girl that drew people to her, seen in the servants that had at first been supposed to watch her now looking to her as their mistress. Moreover, she seemed to be able to stare straight through you. Those eyes, those violet eyes of the Targaryen line, seemed to gaze into your soul.

"Now, what can I do for you, princess?" He asked, bringing his mind back to the present as she sat across from him.

She sighed. "I've tried following my brother around. I've tried following the magister around. I have tried asking the servants. I've tried getting into his vault to see if he's got some sort of relic or something that he's going to trade to the Dothraki for their aid. I have found nothing. I can't get into his treasure room. It's always locked and I think the magister keeps the key on him at all times. I don't know what else to do. Have you found out how they are trying to get the Dothraki to aid us and, more importantly, how they intend to get them across to Westeros?"

Dominic frowned now, wondering how to break the news to her. After a moment, he decided for the truth, the girl would make her own decision after that. "I can actually help you there. You see, I wandered about the town as a bard today, just to keep my hand in, you understand?" He waggled the fingers of his non-mangled hand at her. Daenerys rolled her eyes, making a 'get on with it' gesture with her own hand. "Anyway, I asked a lot of questions about the Dothraki and about their leaders. I found no way anyone could convince the Dothraki to go on the ocean and there have been no hints of grand alliances or treasure being handed over to them, beyond the normal tribute the city gives them to stop them from sacking it, of course. One the other hand, apparently one Khal, that is what they call a leader, is in the city. His name is Khal Drogo. There is some kind of prophecy detailing the coming of a figure out of Dothraki legend, 'he who mounts the world'. They say it may be Drogo's son, born of a union between himself and a woman from another land. What is known as fact, however, is that Khal Drogo is the most powerful Dothraki warlord around. He leads an army of forty thousand horse, an impressive horde to be sure."

He watched as it sank into his listeners mind. Nothing happened for a moment, then Daenerys' violet eyes widened in shock and horror. "You mean me! They, they mean to, to sell me off to some, some horse riding barbarian! That is the totality of their scheme? To simply sell me off to this Khal and he'll give us his troops! That's beyond ridiculous!"

"I thought as much," Dominic said mildly, waving one hand in the air as if to calm her down, but this didn't work.

Daenerys stood up in a fury, for the first time feeling that boiling, all-encompassing rage that Viserys thought came from their Targaryen blood. She stood up abruptly and stalked around the room, waving her hands in the air. "Even if I become this Drogo's wife, it's not like I'll be his equal or anything. I know enough about the Dothraki to know that their womenfolk do have rights of a sort but they can't lead a horde! That doesn't even consider how the hell we're going to convince them to cross the sea, which you said they're scared of!"

"I never said it was a smart plan." the bard protested. "I only mentioned that it was a possibility. Possibly, there could be more to it that hasn't reached the rumor mill. For anything else, you'll have to go to your brother or the magister."

"I will." Daenerys said firmly. "I'll go to Viserys this very night!" That line froze Dominic's blood, but before he could say anything Daenerys stormed out heading back towards her rooms.

That very evening, as she said she would, Daenerys confronted her brother. For the first time in their lives she stood up to him, angrily, "So, I have heard some rumors about how you are planning to get the Dothraki to agree to back us. Selling me off to one of their Khals? Is it true?"

Viserys calmly sipped at his wine smirking at her, somewhat drunk and therefore a little more coarse than he would have been otherwise. "Yes, that's the general plan, we have to use what we can, after all, and you," he said leering at her looking at her from head to toe, "are a very valuable commodity. Why do you think I never married you, myself? Your brides-head is worth far more than anything else about you, that's for certain."

This calm response did nothing to quiet Daenerys' rage and she replied scathingly. "And you think we can just march in with an army of forty thousand barbarians, barbarians who have no ability at siege warfare, against Westeros, a land that has dozens of castles that we would have to take by storm and with terrain far more varied and mountainous than that of most here in Essos? What about the barbarian's fear of the sea? How are you going to get them to go with you at all?"

"That's just a silly myth." Viserys said with an airy wave of his hand. "The promise of loot, pillage, and a return to the old ways of sacking cities rather than being paid tribute by them will garner enough interest from the Dothraki to offset their fears. All the cities are willingly paying them tribute rather than fighting them. That removes most of the worthy enemies, save for one another."

"As for aid in sieges, I have a certain alliance in hand already and with Illyrio's help we have allies elsewhere in Westeros. Trust your brother." he said, smirking and patting her cheek like a little girl. "With the barbarians as our manifold fist and our agents aid elsewhere, we will regain the Iron Throne." His eyes burned with a fervent light.

Yet, Daenerys did not share his optimism. "I think you're underestimating the fear of the ocean that the Dothraki feel and, unless this alliance you speak of is with a strong enough nation, we don't have enough people! What about a fleet? We would need to protect the ships the Dothraki are on until we land, and Dominic said that Stannis Baratheon is very dangerous at sea."

Now, Viserys was becoming angry at her questioning him. "If you must know, it is with Dorne that I have an agreement." he snapped, ignoring her rather pertinent point about needing a fleet. "I am to wed Prince Doran Martell's daughter thus once more binding the House of Martell and the House of the Dragon together once more!"

"That's all well and good in the south," Daenerys said, "but the rest of the nations won't just fall in line, we'll have to conquer them. We won't be seen as their rightful rulers returned, we will be seen as conquerors and we can't do that! Have our readings and Dominic's retelling of Robert's Rebellion taught you nothing?!"

Her brother snarled in anger at the mention of the rebellion but Daenerys forged on. "A King cannot simply run rampant over the land, wielding the sword to keep himself on his throne, because the moment the sword fails, he dies! We need to subvert them from within, garner public support, not barge in like, like a rampaging dragon! We don't have to just take back the throne, we have to rule from it!"

She was interrupted as Viserys slapped her across the face. Her head jerked back with the power of the slap. She could feel blood running down her from her lips for a moment but she glared back defiantly. That deep well of anger Daenerys had felt since realizing what Viserys and Illyrio intended sustained her where before she would have meekly given in at the first hint of her brother's rage.

"You will do is you are ordered." Viserys growled at her, grasping her around the throat with one hand. "I will reclaim our throne, whatever I must do, whatever price we must pay, however we can do it! If I have to wade through an ocean of blood to the Iron Throne, then I will do it. Remember your place, you are my younger sister, I am the head of the family, you will do what you are told!"

"Never!" she gasped. "We can't rule like that. We can't just rely on the Dothraki and Dornish swords. We need…" she was interrupted again by a slap, but she still glared back defiantly.

That look seemed to goad her brother and when next Viserys hit her, it was with his fist, not within open palm. Daenerys reeled, but she still stared defiantly at him "You can't silence me by…"

That was as far as she got before he again had her by the throat and his fist smashed into her stomach. Again and again, Viserys hit her, now in full 'Targaryen rage' as he called it, not even noticing when Daenerys' eyes lids shut and she slumped into unconsciousness. He hit her again and again in the face, on the chest, on the arms, and the stomach.

Viserys only stopped her when Dominic raced in along with Illyrio, wanting to see what all the noise was about and the bard pulled Viserys off his bloody, beaten, sister.

OOOOOOO

Ranma and the King's party had been traveling for about a month after they left the wharf at the end of the Neck and they were now near enough to a river to hear it from the road, if faintly, due to the noise of their passage. The Green Fork it was called, one of the three major rivers that gave the Riverlands its name. It flowed out of the Neck elsewhere on the Neck's length and, up ahead, merged with the Blue Fork and the Red Fork before traveling out to sea.

The King had called a halt early today for this reason, since the stream would allow the servants to wash the dirty clothing that had accumulated and this area was a good hunting ground, as well. "You want to come with us, lad?" he asked gaily, looking down at Ranma where he was helping Tommen down from his horse. That horse, Robert reflected with amusement, is probably the envy of the rest of the four legged bastards in the party, only having Tommen to carry day after day. He had invited Ranma along ever since they had left the Neck behind, hoping always in a rather loud voice that the boy's luck would rub off on them and they'd find some good sport for a change.

Ranma shook his head. He had come to somewhat like the King. He did have a sort of rough and ready humor and magnetism to him but he wasn't Ranma's favorite person in the world. Plus, hunting when he wasn't warging with Fenris didn't really interest him. "Not this time, your majesty, I think I'm going to swim for a bit. Do you have any idea how rare it is to be able to swim in the North without danger of frostbite?"

He looked over at his little sister, who had just exited the carriage. "I think you should come swimming, too, dear sister. You haven't had any proper exercise since this trip began." The girl raised her nose up haughtily but Ranma continued his needling of her before she could reply. "I don't think the Prince would like you so much if you became overweight, do you? And that's what you're going to do if you don't exercise after all that eating and sitting in one place for so long."

That seemed to settle the matter for Sansa, who nodded in agreement. Robert rode off with a booming laugh as Ned simply shook his head and chuckled, reaching down to ruffle Sansa's hair before he rode off after the King.

The trio of young girls, along with Cersei surprisingly, went off to change, coming back in the short pantaloons and loose shirts that passed for swimming clothing for women here.

Looking at the Queen, Ranma groaned a little internally, turning away quickly. Cersei had been acting strangely since they had left the Neck behind. She was almost always semi-friendly to him now, which made him even more suspicious of her. She was also always finding some reason to bend over or flip her hair back in such a way that the scent of her perfume hit him, always touching his hand after he brought Tommen back after exercising at their stops.

There was no denying the woman was gorgeous: blonde hair, green eyes, fair skin, and a figure that was one of the best Ranma had ever seen. However, her attentions toward him were freaking Ranma out! It was like she was flirting with him, but that couldn't be right, could it? Why him, especially considering, you know, the whole married to the King thing!?

While Cersei had gone into this little bit of seduction with the hope that she could eventually wear Ranma down and begin to control him using the oldest way imaginable, after a few days she had actually begun to enjoy it, and not just because her evil little brother Tyrion wasn't around. Despite the fact that, according to Jeyne, at least, Ranma was no virgin and, in fact, had been in a long-standing relationship with Dacey Mormont, the warrior woman Cersei had noticed a time or two at Winterfell, he tended to flush and look away, blushing like a little boy at the merest hint of flirtation from her. It fed her ego a little but it also was just so intensely amusing to her.

Beyond that, she had realized that Ranma was more dangerous as a rallying point than she had thought. He had an easy going charisma, an energy, a power to him, which seemed to ensnare anyone nearby, even some of the southern men-at-arms. When he spoke, people listened, even those nominally his superior, and when he was around he grabbed people's attention. He was at times stern like his father, such as when he was training Tommen, but the warmth underneath was visible in those deep blue eyes for any to see, unlike with Eddard, who only let his warmth show with family and friends.

Luckily for Cersei, her twin had been too busy 'guarding' the King to notice her interest in Ranma. Two of the Kingsguard had come down with the flu a little while after they left the Neck and were unable to do their duties. Jaime had been forced to follow the King around in their stead and the King always went hunting the moment they stopped for the midday or evening meal. Even once the King returned, Jaime had to stay with him. Jaime had become a little irritated by it but Cersei was rather thankful for it, since her twin would never have understood what she was up to with her mild flirtations, if he saw it. Oh, Cersei was subtle, but Jaime would have noticed something.

As would Tyrion of course, though what he would have done about it, that she didn't know. She hated the little dwarf, had hated him since she had heard a prophecy from a wise woman in Lanisport that both she would outlive her children would be slain and that her life would be ended by the 'valonqar', which was Valyrian for 'little brother'. She had feared Tyrion for years as being the object of that prophecy, especially since everything else the woman had told her had come true.

That was unimportant right now however. Now, they were coming to the halfway point of the trip and there hadn't truly been a lot of progress with her little project. Ranma still didn't seem to look at her as a woman when she wasn't outright flirting with him and it didn't seem as if she was getting through to him. Today's venture into flirtation also failed, because Ranma took one look at her and the girls, flushed, and moved off down the Green Fork, swimming away with the ease of an athlete through the water. When Tommen made to follow, the Queen brought him up sharply, ordering him to stay in the shallows with the rest of them, though her eyes tracked Ranma as he moved off.

At this point, Joffrey joined them, more to show off his physique to Sansa than anything else. To his dismay, however, Sansa merely glanced at him then away with a faint blush on her face while her friend Jeyne stared with a rather critical expression on her face. She turned away to whisper something into Sansa's ear, which caused Sansa to blush brightly and push her friend into the water with a giggle. Myrcella laughed and jumped in too, splashing them both. The young girl had been having a lot of fun on this trip, able to get away from the court and all its rules. Even her mother had allowed her to have some fun, though only under supervision of course.

The Queen allowed her legs to soak in the cold water of the river for a few moments, then, as Ranma showed no sign of coming back while she was here, sighed and stood up. She left septa Mordane in charge of the girls, knowing that nothing would happen under her watch. Instead, Cersei went back to change and talk to a few of the Knights who were loyal to her family, to see who had been behind the rather stupid attack on Ranma the night after they left the Neck, which was still being talked about in amused tones by many.

Cersei felt such assaults were premature, at best. She needed some way to figure out how Ranma was going to react to the cesspool that was politics in Kings Landing. If he was unable to navigate it without making enemies, that too would be information she could use and could give her pawns to use against him in the future, if need be. She also needed to learn his father's intentions when they arrived, which could be a much more immediate problem.

Back at the stream, Joffrey had begun to practice his swordplay, flicking his sword here, there, and everywhere, showing off in front of Sansa. This effort however, failed. Sansa had seen her father, both of her older brothers, as well as a few of the wolf-sworn at work, and knew true prowess with the blade when she saw it. So she merely smiled rather wanly. "You, um, you look magnificent, my Prince. Surely your prowess in battle matches that of your prowess on the hunt." Her face and tone however gave her away.

Joffrey scowled at her before stalking off angrily. Soon his angry walk brought him near Tommen, who was playing with Lady and Fenris further down the riverbank, splashing them and being splashed in turn. The sight of his younger brother brought an all-too-familiar rage surging through Joffrey's mind.

He hated the fact that Tommen had been getting so much attention lately, not just from Ranma, who he could care less about, but from the King, their father! While fearing Robert, the one thing Joffrey wanted above even the crown was his father acknowledging him, seeing him as his true heir! The fact that Tommen seemed to gain their father's approval after a few weeks of working with Ranma, made Joffrey's anger boil over. He conveniently neglected to think that he had had the chance early on to learn from Ranma, and possibly gain Robert's regard in turn, but such people never realize that they are their own worst enemies.

He charged his younger brother, his sword raised. He had just enough presence of mind to try and cover his act by saying, "Let's play brother, sneak attack!" He brought his sword down and Tommen, thanks only to his training with Ranma, was fast enough to dive out of the way, just in time.

Joffrey's sword wasn't a practice sword, it was a real one, which he had convinced his mother to let him carry a few days ago. If that blow had connected Tommen might've been maimed for life, at best. Tommy ducked back again, moving deeper into the water, his eyes wide and afraid at this sudden assault.

The 'civilized' Lady simply sat there in the shallows, looking on in confusion, but Fenris came to his rescue, bounding out of the deeper water. Joffrey tried to protect himself, slashing at the wolf, but Fenris was too fast and he slammed into Joffrey bodily with a shoulder, smashing back-first into the shallows. He leaned down, growling low in the prince's ear, and Joffrey stilled, something in his monkey brain telling him that death was very near indeed.

Ranma, warned by his bonded wolf's anger came swimming back up river in time to catch a bit of the action. Once there, he came forward motioning Fenris off. "What the hells were you playing at?" His voice was coldly angry as he knelt beside the prince, picking up his sword, which had fallen into the water when Fenris hit him. This isn't a toy, your highness." and instead of saying the words with any sense of respect, there was only derision and contempt in his voice. "You could have killed Tommen with that stunt. If you want to spar with someone, you ask, you don't just charge at your younger brother with a real weapon like that!"

His sister came running up at that point, pulling Ranma away, while behind her Myrcella went to Tommen, cursing herself for not having anticipated this kind of thing. Joffrey can't really hurt Tommen 'by accident' while in the carriage thanks to Tommen traveling on horseback most of the time, now. I should've thought he would look for some other way to hurt Tommy, but attacking him like this?

Sansa, however, knew nothing about Myrcella's thoughts or Joffrey's growing darker desires. "R-Ranma! He was only playing, your wolf overreacted. Are you all right, my prince?"

Joffrey scowled but allowed the girl to help him up, staring hard at Ranma. "Your wolf hurt me, if you can't control it, I'll have it put down!"

Fenris growled at him, but Ranma laid a gentle hand on his head and he calmed down quickly. "I have Fenris in complete control, my prince, which is something I can't say about you or whatever the hell drove you to try and attack your younger brother like this. I'll say again, if you want to spar, go to one of the men-at-arms, don't attack someone out of the blue like this."

Joffrey glared at him and stalked away, exaggerating his wounds where Fenris's claws had nicked him on the shoulder and chest, wincing occasionally for the look of the thing. "I'll have that beast put down for this, you'll see!"

After that, Joffrey ran to his mother, who overreacted, and when Robert and Ned came back from hunting, she accosted them with Joffrey at her side. After Joffrey told his version of the tale, he demanded that Fenris be put down.

However Ranma quickly countered that, informing them of what had really happened, with Tommen and Myrcella backing him up. When they were asked their opinions Jeyne simply said she hadn't seen anything and Sansa, much to the ire of both her father and Ranma, took the prince's side.

Robert looked disgusted. "So someone here is lying and I think I've got a good idea who," he said glaring at his oldest son. The useless waste of cum had never amounted to anything, yet, and this was just one more in a long line of disappointments that began with that damn pregnant cat he had butchered. Then the boy had the nerve to come and show me the babies, expecting me to be proud of him!

That thought never failed to infuriate Robert, but even so, he turned back to Ranma. "Still, we can't have an animal attacking the Crown Prince like that, even if it was warranted. It's almost as if it had attacked the King. Besides which, look at the size of Fenris, he's what, a tail longer and a head taller at least than the other one. The bigger that wolf grows the more dangerous he's going to be and the less you'll be able to control him. Best to put him down now."

Ned frowned and looked at his son, who he could tell from the tense way he stood, was about an inch away from committing violence. This was proven when he said grimly, "Your majesty, Fenris is only as dangerous as I am myself, something I will prove if anyone tries to 'put him down'."

Robert's eyes drew together angrily, unused to being talked to like that, but the Queen surprisingly came down on Ranma side. The last thing Cersei wanted to do was to drive a further wedge between him and her family. It looked as if Joffrey was doing all he could to widen that riff and she determined to take him strongly to task for that. For now, however, Cersei spoke calmly. "I think this has been blown out of all proportion. It's true that my son was only playing but he should have remembered that his sword wasn't a practice sword, while, at the same time, Fenris should've been gentler about taking him down. There is wrong enough to go around and Fenris has never acted violent before this. He interacts well with Tommen and with Myrcella and hasn't attacked anyone else, either. I will admit its size is off-putting and can make it dangerous but it seems well-controlled."

For some reason that made Robert bark out a laugh, although Ranma couldn't say he got the joke. Yet even his father's lips twitched in amusement, at the way that line could've been taken. The Queen went on, ignoring them with ease. "When we get to King's Landing, we might need to think of how to corral both wolves, simply for the safety of others. Right now, have Fenris and Lady steer clear of Joffrey, who it seems Fenris, at least, doesn't like, and we will speak no more about this incident."

She ignored the look of surprised betrayal on her oldest son's face. They would be having words later. This would put Ranma somewhat in her debt, as it was well within the King's power to order Fenris be put down and his own father would've had to obey.

The King laughed again, good humor restored by his bitch of a wife saying a double entendre like that without even realizing it. "Fine, but if it happens again lad, your wolf will be put down."

Ranma's glared at the King but didn't say anything, merely stalking away. That almost brought the King's bad mood back but he only had to look at the constipated expression on his eldest brat's face to get it back. Ranma also glared at his own sister and then shook his head, as if gravely disappointed in her, which he was. He then walked away without a word, followed by Ned, who didn't even look at her.

That made Sansa feel about 4 inches tall for a moment, but what was she supposed to do? She was to wed Joffrey. She couldn't go against his word, certainly not for a mere pet.

That evening, Ranma cornered Sansa after dinner before she could retreat into the children's tent and laid into her in no uncertain fashion. His voice lacked the usual warmth it held when he talked to family and his face was set in the 'Stark mask', as his friends often called it. "You took the Prince's side over that of your own brother and what you knew was right? What possible reason could you have for lying like that, Sansa?"

"Ranma," Sansa whispered urgently, "he's my fiancée! This is what I've been dreaming about for years! To wed the Prince!"

"So that is more important than the truth? What if it had been Lady who had jumped on top of Joffrey, would you have stood up for your own wolf if he and the Queen called for her to be put down, or stood by and watched Lady get her head chopped off?"

"No! But it's not that simple!"

Ranma held up a hand, far too angry right now to continue this. "I think you need to rethink about your priorities, Sansa, or you might lose something important while chasing after something that might not even exist." With that he walked off.

Sansa stared after him for several moments before ducking inside the tent, wondering why Ranma couldn't see, couldn't see that she loved Joffrey, that they belonged together! Sure, Joffrey had an anger issue but so did his father! Sure, he wasn't the warrior that Ranma was but he was also untried and a man didn't have to be a warrior to be a good king or husband. Marrying Joffrey was her dream and she would do anything to see it come about.

While Jeyne commiserated with her friend, Myrcella looked at her sadly, wondering if it was too late to open Sansa's eyes to the truth about her brother. If something like today couldn't do it, I'm almost afraid of what could… Instead of saying anything she turned away on her cot as if already falling asleep, vowing internally once more to protect Tommen from Joffrey as much as she could.

As he stalked away, Ranma paused looking at the Queen who was about to enter her own tent. Ranma nodded his head at her and the Queen responded with her own nod of the head before moving inside, where she let a small smirk of triumph appear on her face. A crack has appeared, now all I need is to find some way to capitalize on it.

Ranma groaned, running one hand through his hair as he moved off to where he would sleep up in one of the trees near the camp, with Fenris on the ground below them. He didn't want a repeat of what had happened after they left the Neck and with Joffrey on a tear that was more likely than anything else. This isn't my kind of fight. he thought to himself There isn't anything I can grab here, anything I can see to turn my skills on. It's all just words, trickery, backstabbing, and hidden agendas. Damn it, I need to be on guard all the time. It's like being back in Nerima only instead of physical attacks I need to be ready for political ones.

In the tent he shared with his uncle Joffrey was trembling with rage, while Jaime simply lay there, lost in his own thoughts as to what his sister was playing at. For the first time, Joffrey had felt the barbed edge of his mother's tongue and it had been unpleasant to say the least. She had taken him to task for endangering his sibling, for then lying to her, and, worst of all, for making her have to make peace with the King. She ordered him, ordered! Him! To stop looking for ways to attack Ranma, that the Stark boy's physical skills made him a weapon she wanted to turn to their use but that she couldn't do that when he was making every effort to alienate Ranma.

All this made Joffrey's hate for Ranma even stronger and for Tommen as well. He couldn't understand what was so special about the Stark boy. Oh, he was quick and had endurance but who cared about that in relation to Joffrey being the Crown Prince! That meant he was much more important than some wild boy from the North, so why was everyone acting as if the Stark freak was special? And as for Tommen, he was now getting even more of their mother's attention as well as their father's, something Joffrey could not abide. Yet, that was Ranma's fault more than anything. There must be something I can do to him, something he won't see coming. He thought for a long time then smiled. I can stomach this a while longer but the moment we get back to King's Landing, I must seek out the alchemists' hall...

OOOOOOO

She dreamed of the fire of dragons, raining down from the sky. Only their targets weren't normal, they didn't seem to move as humans should, nor did they seem to feel pain they only died silently under the breath of the dragons. She dreamed of a man made of blue-gold fire leading a charge but against whom she couldn't make out. She dreamed again of blue eyes, warm and expressive, a face that somehow was kind yet stern. She dreamed of cold, cold creeping across the ground like fingers of death, coming closer and closer only to be halted by the fire of dragons and the feel of a wolf pelt draped across her body.

Daenerys woke up but found she couldn't gather enough energy to move or even open her eyes. What had awoken her was an argument going on nearby, the noise of which drove what little memory she had of her dreams out of Daenerys' mind. "What! You said it yourself, we need their troops! Why the delay?"

"Not even a Dothraki barbarian would agree to marry a woman who has been beaten bloody, my prince! What on earth were you thinking?" There was something to the magister's tone that had never been there before when he addressed either of the Targaryen siblings, cold harshness and condemnation rather than obsequiousness.

That, possibly more than the words themselves, brought Viserys up short. He glared at the magister then asked abruptly, "Are the barbarians really afraid of the ocean? If we can't use them in Westeros then what is the point of this arrangement at all!"

The magister waved one hand dismissively. "That fear can be overcome with enough treasure promised to them, if…"

"You sound remarkably blasé about it, but this is putting all our eggs into one basket. What if we can't? What if this marriage doesn't do anything for our cause? We will have gambled away one of our most important pieces for nothing!"

"Do not concern yourself about that, the barbarians will play their part. You will have your army eventually. If not from the Dothraki, the threat of them might force a few of the free cities to pony up enough money for us to raise a mercenary army."

"And thus he would be seen as just an invader, just another claimant to the throne with no more right to it than any other. Worse, you would be seen as a foreigner and that would rally the people against you like nothing else." That was Dominic's voice, calm and almost analytical.

Viserys turned on him. "I heard that same argument from Daenerys. What have you been telling her?! She should know not to question me or my decisions! I should have your head for your part in this!" Viserys, of course, didn't think he was in the wrong at all, it was merely his sister questioning him that was wrong.

"I merely answered her questions, your grace, that's all. She was the one who asked them in the first place. Yet, that does not mean that her questions are invalid, does it? If you get them across the ocean, over their fears and Stannis and his fleet, the Dothraki might be able to win you the throne, but your own actions before, after, and especially during that invasion will make it so you keep it. If you simply threaten anyone who's wants to stand against you or questions you with your horde of foreign troops, you will never be able to live without them. You, your children, your line will always be forced to rely on the sword to keep your throne."

"If that is the way I must take back my crown from the usurper then so be it!" Viserys said coldly. "Those people should all have been loyal to my family in the first place, now they have made their beds and I will happily kill them all in them."

"This is all of no consequence, really." the magister said waving one hand airily, unseen by Daenerys. "My healers say that Daenerys will be able to move in a few days but it will be months before her bruises and cuts heal enough for her to be seen in public, let alone be married off to Khal Drogo. I can postpone the wedding for that long. Postpone, not get out of. The barbarians are death on pact breakers and the city itself could be made to pay for the price of any such broken deal."

In actuality, the Dothraki were really not a threat to the main free cities themselves these days. Their defense was too strong for the Dothraki, who had no siege knowledge, to break through. But the Dothraki could put the lands all around the main city to the torch. Of course, none of the other cities would come to one another's aid, which, even with the sea trade untouched, would allow the Dothraki to slowly but surely choke the life out of any one of them.

Viserys nodded grimly. "Daenerys will do her duty and we will have their blades."

The two of them left, leaving only Dominic and the healer, an elderly woman who puttered around the room making certain that the two of them were not left alone, acting more as chaperone at the moment then a healer.

Dominic took no notice of that, simply sitting in the chair next to Daenerys and shaking his head. "You silly girl, what in the world possessed you to actually confront your brother in such a manner? You should've gone to the magister rather than your brother, at least the magister wouldn't have assaulted you like this."

"Had to." Daenerys whispered, her voice coming out hoarse thanks to the damage to her throat and mouth area as well as disuse. "How long?"

"You've been out of it for four days now. And what exactly did you mean, you had to?" Dominic asked, not showing any surprise at her answering him.

"Had to confront him, had to show, not a little girl anymore."

"He seems to already think you aren't a little girl, that is in fact the problem at present. So what will you do now that you have confirmed their rather simpleminded plan?"

"Don't know, rest, heal first. You, you look around? Search. Illyrio hiding something, the treasure room."

"Simplicity, the hallmark of any good plan, and yes, I'll hunt around see what I can find."

Daenerys tried to nod her head but couldn't move her neck. She simply blinked at him with her one open eye. "Thank you."

Dominic shook his head, moving away from the bed as the healer moved in to give the girl some medicine that would knock her out, letting her body heal. He chuckled quietly, looking down at his un-maimed hand, wiggling his fingers. "Well, I suppose I can see if these old fingers still remember how to pickpocket."

OOOOOOO

The King's party continued down the Kingsroad, which in turn followed the Blue Fork. At this point, they were in the Riverlands proper, the more settled region of this kingdom rather than the less populated border region between the Kingsroad entering the Neck and entering the Riverlands. As such, there were more people and many more dwellings along the road. Farmsteads now appeared practically every two or three leagues, but they looked rather strange to Sansa and Ranma. The Northerners had gotten used to farmsteads in the North, which were always heavy stone buildings, designed to hold a large extended family and to serve as a defense stronghold as well, in a pinch. But the houses were also built heavy to keep in the warmth and keep out the cold. Here, buildings had many more windows with much more glass. Most of the structures were made from wood rather than stone and mortar with thatched roofs rather than the heavy wooden roofs found in the North.

The two siblings were now talking again, though only haphazardly. Sansa had not yet apologized for taking the Prince's side in the argument about Fenris nor had she really thought about what she might be giving up in chasing her dream that Joffrey had come to represent, that of marrying a prince and living in the center of things, in King's Landing. However, Ranma had cooled down a little from his anger at that but was even more determined than ever to find real proof to show Joffrey wasn't what Sansa thought he was. Unfortunately for him, Joffrey had made himself scarce since that incident, sticking to his mother's side at stops, and staying in the carriage when he could, from wherever Ranma and Tommen went.

Two things had changed though. The first was that Robert occasionally forced Ranma and Tommen to ride up front with him, where he regaled them with his own stories. He seemed to be, in his own rather ham-handed way, to be showing approval for Tommen, whose lessons Ranma had stepped up. Along with the ones made to build up strength and speed, Ranma had begun to give him lessons on self-defense, unarmed for now. Robert had seen them at it, and his approval for his youngest child had risen a bit more.

Now, while Ranma enjoyed the stories that Robert could tell from his youth, at least the ones that were about battles and fights rather than wenching, he preferred to spend time with the youngsters at the back or talking to the men-at-arms from Winterfell. By this point he had exercised with all of them, even the ones he haven't exercised with before this journey began and all of them had gained a bit more skill because of it. Nothing like Ser Jory or the others he had trained with back in Winterfell but enough to make them a little more dangerous than your run of the mill swordsman. At every stop, he could be found giving pointers of stance and style even as he kept training Tommen, though his own sword had not been replaced.

The other change was that the leader of the White Cloaks, Ser Barristan, had taken to spending more time by the carriage and talking quietly to Ranma and Tommen when Ranma wasn't regaling the younger boy with stories. He did this randomly and never seemed to spend much time with them but he plied Tommen with questions about leadership and what he would do in any given situation, like the sort of question Ned plied his son with at times, but Ranma was left to wonder what the older man was thinking. Nor was he alone in this, Cersei too noticed, both this and Robert's attempt at reaching out to Tommen. She noticed, wondered, and worried.

Despite this minor mystery, nothing else occurred for the next week or so until they came upon a large inn set on the side of the road that was large enough for the Baratheon and Stark households, although not their troops. Most of the men-at-arms kept going and would make camp in a large clearing at the other side of this tiny village, though the Kingsguard stayed with the two families.

The inn's second floor was organized around a small central seating area, with six rooms of varying size down two hallways on either side. Two large rooms were first, with several beds apiece, for normal guests. Then there were two more rooms, each of better quality than the last.

After a very decent meal, dominated by Robert talking excitedly about what kind of hunting they could do on the next day of the trip, as well as Ned quizzing Ranma on his knowledge of the Riverlands geography, the group retired. Ranma first went outside to check on Fenris, who had been put in the inn's kennel for the night. His wild looks and size frightened the innkeeper so much that he was shaking like a leaf despite the amount of money that the eunuch handed over for their night's stay.

Still, Fenris seemed happy enough and the other dogs in the kennel certainly weren't going to bother him. They were all away well from him except for two. One was a large hunting dog that Ranma thought looked sort of like a Rottweiler but with a basset hound's ears. He had seen both often enough in his travels to make that comparison, though the combination was new. It was lying down near Fenris, its eyes on the direwolf, although it didn't seem to Ranma that it was thinking of attacking him. The second dog that didn't seem wary of Fenris was a tiny toy dog that was yapping at the large direwolf pup. The direwolf, however, was ignoring it with ease. Ranma chuckled reaching through the bars to rub Fenris's ears, causing the large pup to rumble deep in his throat and wag his tail. "Try not to eat that one, okay? I don't know whose it is but that can only cause trouble and, more importantly, it might upset your stomach. Then where would ya be."

Fenris chuffed, amused at his masters words, then looked over at the yappy dog with one eye. The tiny dog whimpered a little and backed away, it's tail between its legs, but the moment Fenris looked away shook itself and came back yapping even louder. The other dogs however continued to stay silent and as far away from Fenris as possible. Even though he was only barely seven months old, Fenris was larger and more powerful than any of them. Unlike the yappy dog, all of the others knew this. Ranma chuckled again and headed back into the inn.

When he got up to the second story, he noticed Ned waving to him from one doorway, near the far end of the leftmost hall. On the other side of Ned, Robert could be seen entering the last room on that side of the inn. Giggling laughter of some woman or other reached Ranma's ear as he walked toward his father causing Ranma to sigh, shaking his head, noticing the Queen entering the second room on the other side with her handmaiden, while the girls entered the one beyond that.

He had a tremendous amount of respect for Robert the fighting man, Robert the general, but he was quickly losing all his respect for Robert the man. It wasn't so much that he particularly liked the Queen. Even if Cersei had come over to his side on the issue of Fenris, she was too vain, too aloof, and too unthinkingly arrogant (above and beyond the whole flirting thing) but he still didn't like the way the King flaunted his infidelity front of her.

That was added to the fact of his drinking, something that reminded Ranma all too much of Genma, plus the fact that he didn't really seem to want to do anything but hunt and rut all day. Not once had he discussed anything about actually being king, taxes, laws, problems facing the realm, whatever. None of it seemed to matter to Robert, which bothered Ranma a lot, given the training Ranma had under his father and maester Luwin.

Ned and Ranma talked for a while that evening in their room, something they hadn't been able to do during the day for a while since Robert took all of Ned's attention and Ranma was perfectly happy to train with the troops or spend time with Tommy and the other kids.

Though honestly calling Sansa a child wasn't really accurate any longer. Ranma hadn't really noticed it back in Winterfell, in the familiar environs of home, but here on the road, especially since it had gotten so warm out after they had left the Neck behind, he could see Sansa was now a rather attractive young woman. Sansa had their mothers auburn hair and heart-like face, a thin waist, long legs, and had developed breasts at some point when Ranma wasn't looking, all of which her dresses were made to accent without putting her body on display. All in all, she was easily one of the prettiest girls/women in the party.

Her brother wasn't the only one who had noticed Sansa. The men-at-arms and Joffrey all had noticed. Of course, the troopers stopped after they noticed Ranma looking at them, his blue eyes dark with the promise of violence. Joffrey, however, Ranma couldn't stop from looking.

They stayed up late that night, talking about their impressions of the royal family, what they expected to be happening back home, and what they would find in King's Landing. Ned informed his son that he was going to try and find out what Jon was doing before his death. He was beginning to believe more and more strongly that, in at least one area, Lady Lysa was correct: Jon had been poisoned. "From what I have gathered from Robert, there was no lead up, no warning of an oncoming illness. One day Jon was hale and hearty, in command of all his faculties, performing his duty as Hand of the King, and not even two days later, he was dead. That speaks of someone having a hand in it, some poison or other. And if Jon was murdered, there must have been a reason. He had many enemies but I fear it was in aid of something more than a personal vendetta. If so, it is my duty, not only as Hand, but as a friend to the king to figure out what it could be."

Ranma shook his head. "We're going to be in a very tenuous position, father." he said critically then smirked a little. "I'm good, but this isn't my type of fight."

"Nor mine." Ned murmured, leaning back on the bed and smiling faintly. "Still, honor demands that I look into it."

Ranma nodded. "Of course it does, but I don't think you should look into it without guarding your own back. We need to think of a way of doing that. And I don't think we should trust anyone in King's Landing."

"Roberts all right," Ned replied mildly, though his face had closed down a little, knowing his son really didn't have the best opinion of his friend. "And I think your lady mother has a friend in King's Landing, a man Jon Arryn trusted as well. Hopefully… the master of purse, Petyr Baelish, is a childhood friend of hers, and I can hope for some aid from him." So long as he doesn't hold my brother Brandon's beating him in a duel for Catelyn's hand against me and my family…

Ranma waved one hand in a so-so gesture, unknowingly echoing his father's thoughts. "That's nice and all, but that was a long time ago. People change, and like I said, from what I've seen just from Varys, the King, and the Queen, this is a cesspit we're running into."

That remark brought to him Ned's mind what Howland Reed has said that evening at the moat, and he nodded slowly. "I will trust only what I see and hear, and I won't go anywhere without a guard. Will that do?" he asked rather jokingly, looking at his son. "Or will you be dogging my steps as well? You realize you're going to have to get to know your possible spouse after she shows up? Who knows, she might already be there."

"Oh, thank you so much." Ranma growled, "I was trying to forget that part."

Ned laughed quietly but warmly as was his nature in private like this. He reached over and grabbed his son's shoulder shaking him gently. "Give the girl a chance, you might be surprised."

Ranma chuckled, reaching up with one hand to grasp his father's where it rested on his shoulder. "So long as that surprise is a pleasant one, that's fine." With that the conversation turned to less serious matters such as what might be going on at home and whether or not Catelyn's latest child would be a boy or a girl. Still, both of them were worried about what they were heading into in King's Landing but were equally determined to do whatever their honor demanded when they got there.

OOOOOOO

That evening, Fenris lifted his head up from where it had been lying as the tiny made creature, the dog that was not natural, began its little yapping sound. No wolf would ever call that thing a dog really, it was simply too small, too tiny, not natural.

This time, the creature wasn't yapping at Fenris but three men dressed all in black who had stolen into the inn's yard. Rather than make for the doorway of the inn, which was closed for the night, they went straight towards the kennel. Something in their manner made Fenris stand up from where he had been laying, dislodging the female that had sidled up to him during the night. She smelled quite interesting, as if she was going into heat soon but wasn't quite there yet.

That was a pity, but for now Fenris shook off such thoughts, which he wouldn't have even been able to do if he was a regular dire Wolf and not a bonded one. His sense of self was odd, far more human than would otherwise be the case, even more so thanks to the odd energy that their connection carried to him from Ranma.

That was unimportant at the moment. Here and now, Fenris began to growl low in his throat, a growl with strange harmonics to it that should've sent anything evolved from monkeys up into their trees for protection.

The three men paused, showing they had some sense, then came on, showing that they didn't have enough. Two of them carried those long fangs of the men they called spears, while the third carried a shorter steel claw, a sword. Fenris's nose wrinkled, smelling the men from here, the same scent that had been on the men who had attacked his bonded master. Fenris backed away, growling somewhat louder as they advanced on the kennel.

Once they were close enough, the two men with spears thrust them through the kennel's fence, trying to stick Fenris. But Fenris dodged to one side, then with a lightning twist of his head grabbing the spear of one man, pulling him forward with a muffled whoop to crash into the fence. It rattled a little, and the other man barked out a whispered order in the man thing's tongue. Without Ranma warging with him, Fenris couldn't understand it but he could read their tone easily enough.

The other man with a spear tried to get Fenris in the side. He dodged away again, this time smashing out with a forepaw with surprising strength, breaking the spear halfway up its shaft. He swiftly grabbed up the pointed end with his mouth and threw it at the man who held a sword with a sharp twist of his neck.

Though he missed, that seemed to startle the man things, and they all backed away quickly. To heighten the effect, Fenris growled at them, his fangs bared, the noise getting louder and louder.

The three attackers seemed to think better of it at that point, and raced away out of the inn's yard as quickly as they had come. Fenris stood staring after them, growling still, as the rest of the dogs, who had been woken by the disturbance, looked around and made their yips or barks in turn for a time before Fenris turned and glared at them.

That silenced all of them, save for the small irritating creature. Fenris glared it into submission easily, however. He looked at the other dogs who all looked back at him backing away slightly as was proper in front of an alpha. With a huff of amusement Fenris laid down again, and almost immediately the female with the interesting smell nestled against his side.

He was unsurprised to feel his master moving toward him and the very brief sound of a door opening and closing heralded his arrival.

Ranma had felt his bonded direwolf's anger and irritation from where he had been falling asleep. He had woken up and snuck out, but by the time he had reached the front door of the inn, the excitement had been over. Now he looked down at Fenris, smirking. "Did you have fun?" Fenris huffed again, his tongue lolling out as smiled. "Ah, good, did you notice if they were wearing red?"

The direwolf looked at him askance and Ranma groaned. "Right, can't see colors, never mind." He reached down to rub Fenris' head once more, then turned and walked back into the inn.

Fenris snorted, then laid back down, allowing the female to rub her body against his. Yes, she did smell interesting…

OOOOOOO

Ranma froze halfway up the stairs to the second floor for two reasons. One, there was a candle casting a very low light from the central sitting area. And two, he had just gotten a surge of, of lust or something down his link from Fenris. Fucking hell! Okay, none of the texts that talked about warging ever mentioned feeling that kind of thing from your animal!

After a moment he continued on, wondering who was awake. He was surprised to see the Queen sitting there with a small slim novel in one hand and a glass of wine. Her hair was rather frazzled and she grimaced occasionally, as if she was suffering from a headache. She looked up as Ranma came up the steps. Ranma bowed slightly to her. "Your grace, are you feeling well?"

"A minor headache, young Stark, nothing more." In point of fact Cersei did suffer from headaches occasionally but she also was using this to see if she could overcome Ranma's self-control with one final push. "Was there something wrong with the dogs? Your Fenris acting up?" Cersei leaned back slightly, bringing attention to her chest, barely held within her silk chemise. "Come sit with me, I have been meaning to ask you some questions about my Tommen's training."

Ranma gulped, feeling a little more effected by Cersei's minor flirtations than he would otherwise have been because of whatever the hell Fenris was up to. Damn it, where's a fucking snow drift when I need one. Even so, he knew better than to bring up the little bit of excitement Fenris ran into. He also noticed, not for the first time, how possessively the Queen talked about all her children. "C-certainly your grace. And no, no problems, a small toy dog was causing trouble, which got the others all irritated, but I was able to calm them down. Now, maybe I'll be able to get some sleep."

He sat down across from the Queen, looking at her quizzically. "What did you wish to ask? I think Tommy's training is going well. He's slimming down nicely and putting on some muscles."

"That is precisely what I want to talk to you about." Cersei grimaced a little. At first, Ranma's informal manner had been amusing, but after so long it had begun to be irritating, yet she was more concerned her little lion. "You have him doing all these exercises at such a young age. I am worried it will stunt his growth in the future. I have often heard the maesters speak of too much exercise not being good for children, hence why sword training does not begin until ten."

"That is true, your grace. Some exercises, if taken to extremes, can harm you long term. But I am varying the exercises Tommy is doing so his body can adjust."

"Hmm… Well, that brings me to my other question. I realize that my Joffrey and you have… not been able to get along, but I was wondering if, if he comes to you, would you agree to train him again?" Cersei leaned forward, which allowed her décolletage to flop open.

In his present frame of mind, Ranma couldn't stop himself from looking. He saw the Queen's breasts, somewhat larger than they looked when she was dressed, full and ripe, capped with pretty dark red nipples the size of a silver stag. He groaned, a low, primal, sort of rumbling sound that caused a smirk of triumph to appear on Cersei's face for the briefest of moments.

Ranma very visibly got control of himself. Why the hell is she doing this? What does she have to gain? He suddenly snorted mentally, Fuck it, I was never one ta beat around the bush. He reared back, closing his eyes for a moment then opened them to glare at Cersei, ignoring her body for now. "Why? Why this…" Ranma gestured with one hand at Cersei. "Why are you trying to, to get a reaction out of me? What do you have to gain from it? I refuse to believe you're doing it just for fun."

Cersei actually blinked in shock at this direct question, then surprised herself with a very dry chuckle. "You are direct, young Stark." She paused for a moment, knowing now that she would never be able to control Ranma through his hormones like she had hoped to, which, surprisingly, saddened her, just a little. The boy had an iron self-control which was astonishing in one so young. "Such a question, and what it implies, could get you in a lot of trouble."

"You more than I, I think." Ranma riposted. "And speaking of which, wouldn't our current circumstances be damning enough, the Queen alone with a young man? Even if the King flaunts his indiscretions, it would be damning for you to do the same. Not exactly fair, but there you are."

"Too true." Cersei replied dryly, though that line of defense struck far too close to home. Robert was so egotistical he would dismiss any suggestion she might be unfaithful to him despite his own treatment of their so-called wedding vows, but Eddard and others would take it much more seriously.

She thought for a moment, then decided Ranma required some answer or he would become more suspicious of her, which she didn't want, most particularly in this direction. A bit of the truth would do. "Have you ever heard politics described as the game of thrones?"

Ranma shook his head, watching her closely, not even a hint that he thought of her as a woman.

After a moment Cersei went on. "It is called a game, but it is a most serious one, where families vie for power and the ultimate goal, the throne. I have been a pawn in that game my entire life." She paused, wondering why she had said that, not having meant to but she couldn't pull the words back now. For some reason, even she was effected by Ranma's nature, becoming a little more open around him than she should be. "Now I am a player and I am willing to do anything to see that my side wins. Robert Baratheon is an inept king but my son will sit on that throne in time. You are an enigma, a force to be reckoned with physically, like my brother only even more so. Your skills, they come straight out of the Age of Heroes, making you very dangerous, not only as an individual but as a symbol."

"You are allied with a house that might someday move against mine. The Starks and Lannisters have never been friends. It has been obvious from the beginning that you do not partake of your father's loyalty to my husband and, through him, the Baratheons. Is it any wonder I want to try to control you?"

She didn't mention the fact she hated his house thanks to Lyanna's memory laying over her marriage like a stifling blanket, her fear of Ned and his ability to whisper into Roberts ear, or how willing she was to resort to any means to get what she wanted. Honesty was just another weapon, after all.

Ranma sat silently, looking at her for a moment then nodded. "You have been honest with me, your grace, so I will be honest with you. I will not be controlled in such a manner, nor any other. My loyalty is to my family and to the North. Maybe, eventually, if I get along with this Margaery girl…" He twitched a little at the memory of his upcoming marriage, as if he had swallowed something bitter, which, given his previous experience with fiancées was understandable, even if no one else knew about it.

Cersei actually smiled slightly, noticing how ambivalent the young man was about marrying the Tyrell girl, who was, even she had to admit, a very comely lass, regardless of what else the marriage brought to both families. Yet, the idea of marriage seemed to hold no attraction for Ranma.

"My loyalties may expand to include her family. I like Tommen, I like Myrcella, and I wouldn't ever do anything to harm either one of them, though I think Joffrey needs to grow up a bit and stop being such a brat." That caused Cersei to stiffen angrily, but Ranma went on undaunted. "So long as you and your son, once he ascends to the throne, do nothing to threaten those parties, we will have no problems."

With that Ranma got up from where he was sitting, bowed from the waist to Cersei, then walked away. Cersei's voice stopped him however. "Young Stark, the moment your father officially becomes Hand of the King, both of you will be forced to play the game, whether you want to or not. And in the game of thrones, you win or you die. Remember that."

Ranma stood there for a moment at the edge of the candle light, then continued on his way silently, making no noise as he reentered the room he shared with his father. Cersei remained there, slowly drinking her glass of wine for a time as she thought about the young man that had just left, trying to factor him into her plans, trying to stop the thought that he would have been a good husband for her if only she were younger or him older.

She never noticed that Varys the eunuch had been listening from the foot of the stairs. He had been given a room downstairs, which, while not as nice as the ones upstairs, was adequate for his needs and which kept him close to the royal family and the Starks.

Well, wasn't that interesting. It appears my plan to make myself invisible to the Starks and the Baratheons on this leg of the journey has borne some unexpected fruit. So the boy is nothing more than a blunt object after all, despite his undeniable charisma and possible leadership ability, though that last one is up in the air, I must have it tested somehow. Yet still, a blunt object, with a tremendous amount of skill and self-control but no real threat to those of us who are used to moving in the halls of power. And Cersei seems to think of her children as Lannisters first and Baratheon a distant second. How… interesting. Though she was surprisingly open there, that too was surprising. With that thought, he turned and went back into his room, wondering what would happen when they reached King's Landing.

OOOOOOO

Smalljon, grunted irritably, sawing at the reins of his horse for a moment to bring it up sharply, ignoring the horse's irritated whinny as he glared down at the cart whose wheel had come off, necessitating this stop. I never knew what moving with large groups of people was really like before this. By the old gods, this is so irritating! "How long will this be-damned wheel take to fix?"

One of the smallfolk, from among the several young married couples that were part of the first group heading into the Gift to repopulate it, looked up at him. He was a large man, as most men from Umber lands were, though not as large as Smalljon, with a massive beard that covered most of his face. "At least an hour ,lord. Thankfully this wagon isn't full, it was one of the ones our provender fer the trip we're on."

The heir of House Umber grunted. "Well, get to it then but make it quick. I want us at least three leagues further on before we stop for the night." The man nodded, then bent to his work as Smalljon turned away, looking from side to side at the procession heading ever deeper into the Gift and, at this point, it was the Gift, had been for a few days. A little over a dozen family groups, all young and hungry for their own land rather than working their family's land, two blacksmiths who wanted to open up their own smithies, and several others. It was an oddity of geography, but the Gift had decent, arable land without the need to clear the forests like elsewhere in the North. Certainly more than House Umber's lands, which was just too damn rocky for many farms. What farms there were, were massive farmsteads, each of them little forts, almost holdfasts, able to house the extended family as well as any farmhands they had. Despite the security and family ties, sometimes a newly married couple wanted to get out and away from their family to make their own way.

Smalljon turned his body further in the saddle, looking around at the group of forty mounted troopers ranging around the column. None of them were actually trained horsemen but the horses allowed them to cover the entirety of the column, which was a rather toothsome target for any wildling raider, or any other sort really, though Smalljon hadn't raised any… odd ideas about that. He knew there was more out there than just wildlings but he had agreed then and still agreed now with Commander Mormont and Ranma about keeping that a secret for now. It wouldn't do to have people questioning them about the nature of the threat until they were positioned to defend against whatever was out there.

He noticed, almost absentmindedly, that it was somewhat colder than it had been when he came this way with the other wolf-sworn. Not a good sign… Smalljon was pulled from his thoughts by one of the Norrey scouts coming out of the forest, obviously wondering why the column had stopped, then laughing loudly at the idiot lowlanders with their troublesome carts. Smalljon laughed and waved at the man, thinking that the scouts had earned the right to laugh.

None of the Norrey warriors traveling with them, a full hundred from the northernmost mountain clan, had horses and they had kept up easily with the carts. All of them would be going on to the Wall to add their skills to the rangers and were eager to get it stuck in with the wildlings. The forty men-at-arms with Smalljon would be building a small holdfast around which the settlers would build their community, the first of several on the Kingsroad. That way they could send guards up to the Wall with any supplies they sent up. That was well into the future, of course, when they had their first harvest in but the system was a good one to put in place, especially given what had happened to the Gift's previous occupants.

The column soon moved on and they were able to cover the three leagues Smalljon wanted before needing to stop. The place they stopped at was a rocky clearing with several large boulders and rocky outcroppings everywhere. It was a decent defensive position, one the wolf-sworn had used as a resting point on their way up, well before they spotted the wildling raiders.

As the sun was setting however, one of the Norrey scouts (they didn't seem to have any kind of organization so one was as good as another) came out of the dusk near where Smalljon was tying his horse down for the night. "Umber, we've spotted a large group of wildling raiders, at least twenty hands strong. They're at least two hours away but their own scouts have probably spotted yar and yer slow ass carts." The man spat to the side in disgust. "What'ja want ta do?"

None of the Norrey scouts could really count but hands and twenty was easy enough to understand. Smalljon grinned evilly, waving one hand in the air to signal his men over. He'd taken lessons from Ranma, Jon, and Lord Stark himself several times, and knew that there was nothing more dangerous than having an ambush turned against you. "Do? We're going to slaughter them, mountain man, we're going to slaughter them."

As the Norrey scout gave him and his two officers more information, Smalljon could see the belief of the new threat going through his troops. Many of them had been rather skeptical of the idea of a King Beyond the Wall but the size of this raiding force definitely argued for it. Not only was it large for any wildling force on this side of the Wall, it was also a single group. The wildlings rarely raided in larger than groups of ten without someone around to instill some organization to them.

Along with the acceptance of the threat there was also a sense of grim anticipation. House Umber had felt the stings of wildling raids many times over the millennia and every man here had fought them before. Smalljon nodded at them all. "Alright, here's what we're going to do…

Two hours later, it was full night and the temperature of the air, which had already been extremely cold, plummeted further. The fires the smallfolk set up were large, to give off heat as much as light. Large, head sized stones, were set into the fires, then placed under and around the horses. A few families had gifted their youngsters with portable braziers, which they set up under large canvas tents containing their carts and their horses, warming both the beasts and themselves for the night.

Nothing about the campsite, at least at first glance, said that the Umber men were ready for trouble but they were. The majority of the smallfolk, though many of the men had taken up arms to join the battle, had been moved into the center of the clearing around the rocky outcropping. Two large makeshift tents had been commandeered for use by Smalljon and his men. A few of those men were out there on guard, although they would be transferred in every hour in an attempt to keep frostbite to a minimum. The Norrey scouts were nowhere to be seen, of course They were waiting to close the jaws of the trap.

Smalljon waited anxiously, waiting for the signal from a few of his guards, who were positioned up trees several yards out from the edge of the camp, watching until they saw the wildlings advancing through the forest toward them. The wildlings were experts at night actions but they would have to charge out of the forest for that final push into the rocky area around the camp.

Finally he heard it, the call of a crow on the wind. "CAW-CAW!"

Smalljon bellowed, charging out of the tent. "Up lads, and at them!" Almost immediately, he saw the forms of the wildlings lit by the fires of the camp behind him. They had charged forward and now reacted like the time with the wolf-sworn, once again, not like a trained force would have by freezing and backing away. The wildlings had no such response. Instead, they surged forward as a mob, their iron, copper, and a rare steel weapons raised and howls on their lips.

Which suited the men of House Umber all too well. They charged with roars on their own lips. "RAGHHHH!" Smalljon led the way, his massive claymore slicing one rather thin wildling in twain before he brought it back around to smash into the wicker shield of another. All around him, his men hammered into the wildlings, who attempted to go around the sides of their defensive push only to be taken in the back by the Norrey clansmen.

Smalljon had split the scouts into twenty-five men groups and spread them out away from the straight line of the wildlings advance. Now those groups smashed into the flanks of the attack, grinding it under. Where before, it appeared the attackers had an advantage in numbers, now they were on their heels against a numerically superior force.

Smalljon laughed aloud, bringing up his sword to block a blow from a copper sword, almost negligently smashing his free fist into the sword wielders' face, throwing him to the ground. "One!" The flat of his blade smacked into another wildling's head, sending him comatose to the ground. "Two!"

An older soldier, wielding a wicked looking saw-toothed axe, laughed. "Keeping score lad, I thought yer father'd beaten that out of you years ago!"

"Ha, he did indeed! Many a lesson I've learned over my Father's knee, but no, I want at least…" Smalljon paused, parrying the blow of one wildling that was wielding his sword somewhat better than the normal hack and pray method. His sword smashed the other man's sword to the side, opening up his body for a punch to the sternum. The wildling doubled over with an explosive whoosh, then fell senseless to the ground when Smalljon brought his sword back, smartly rapping the man on the back of the head with his pommel. "Three prisoners! I want to know how these bastards are getting around the Wall!"

"Hoho, someone's learned to look beyond the edge of his blade." The man said, grunting as he twisted a little, freeing his axe from a corpse to block a blow from another wildling just in time.

Smalljon grunted again and pushed forward into the woods, where the main battle was taking place in the dark of the nighttime woods, lit only by the lights of the fires behind him, and the half-moon above them. He was immediately surrounded by four wildlings but he hacked one down before the other three could close.

The heir of House Umber put his back to a tree for a moment, blocking the blows of all three, moving his claymore as if the massive sword weighed nothing, then kicked out, shattering the femur of one of the attackers. That man fell and Smalljon's knee took him in the face, throwing him backward. Another Umber man came in behind his attackers, his sword ending that man's life then threatening the side of one of Smalljon's other attackers.

The last man found himself alone for a split second and was backing away when Smalljon charged forward, bulling into him and throwing him backward. Before the man could regain his footing, Smalljon's claymore cut off his head in a welter of blood.

He grinned over at the other soldier, who had dispatched his own opponent with less panache but with just as much certainty, who grinned back at him. The battle wasn't over and wouldn't be for a while yet, given the nature of the terrain and the poor visibility, but it was no longer in doubt.

Two hours later, the battle was over, the remaining wildlings breaking off and disappearing into the dark of the forest. Because it was so dark out, Smalljon forbade his men from following them, knowing the wildlings could still be dangerous. The Norrey men ignored his edict, for the most part, and lost over a dozen more men after Smalljon ordered his men back, making their total losses twenty six dead and fifteen injured, four severely. The men of Umber had lost nine dead and ten wounded, two seriously. No one knew the total wildling corpses but they were scattered everywhere, so much so that Smalljon had to have his men gather the nearest ones and take them away from the camp. His order to burn them surprised many of his men but no one argued about it.

The next day, Smalljon and the two most experienced men of his command questioned the three prisoners he had taken. Not one more wildling had been taken alive, which was normal for fighting the wild men from the far north. They didn't believe in giving up, and they certainly never took prisoners themselves. Not male ones, at least. Women were fair game and many families, even House Umber, had lost daughters to wildling raids. Mors Crowfood, the man who had lead the Umber contingent up to the wall, had lost his daughter to such a raid, which was why Greatjon had chosen him for the command.

Eventually, Smalljon was able to wring the information he wanted out of their prisoners. It turned out that the wildlings had begun to use large boats, built with mostly green wood, then set forth through the Skirling Pass out onto the Frozen Shore and, from there, took to the sea to get around the Wall. It had been one of the first things that had changed under the new King Beyond the Wall, who Smalljon now had a name for: Mance Ryder. It was still treacherous work and many men had died from the cold of the Frozen Shore but it had allowed larger groups of wildlings to move around the Wall and into the Gift or even beyond. Yet, the wildlings were all adamant that the Gift had been emptier and emptier with every raid and it wasn't just them. That raised some questions among Smalljon's men and he did nothing to quiet them.

Eventually, the column got moving again. Smalljon, with his advisors suggestions, had split off twenty of the Norrey scouts, sending them back to carry the words to the mountain clans. The Norreys and the First Flints especially needed to know about this, since they could possibly intercept the wildlings in the mountains before they could enter the Gift proper.

Those men would also spread the word to the other groups coming up to reinforce the wall. The threat had a name and was very real now. Everyone needed to know that the wolf-sworn had been on the money, something that would steel their resolve. Once that was done, Smalljon and the rest of the column continued their journey deeper into the Gift.

OOOOOOO

The next two weeks passed uneventfully, with the King's party continuing on their way in as lackadaisical a fashion as the King could contrive. The breaks for lunch and dinner became much longer and the time spent hunting during those breaks was longer as well. That was fine by Ranma, who had been expecting another attack on himself or Fenris ever since his little meeting with the Queen, though he supposed she was probably still continuing her wait and see approach.

Ranma somehow knew Cersei was also unconnected to the attacks had seen before this, they weren't her style. He wasn't certain why he thought that, but they weren't. Cersei would wait until she knew he was a real threat rather than a possible one but when she struck, it would not be some toughs smelling of drink that came for him. Ranma wasn't certain what it would be, but he was certain it would be much more dangerous than that.

He was almost positive now that Joffrey was behind those attacks, although he didn't have any proof to back that thought up, other than the men who attacked him being men-at-arms in the Lannister colors. That wasn't enough given the 'provocation' Ranma had given them back in Winterfell. It was just a feeling, that and the fact that whenever he was around, Joffrey tried to glare a hole through his back.

Of course, the princeling had enough sense to stop doing that if Ranma was looking his way or if Sansa was around. That bothered him, both the fact that Joffrey was showing such subterfuge or, at least, an ability in said skill, and that Sansa was still besotted with him.

Lady seemed to have gotten the hint that not all was as it should be with Joffrey and she tended to be tense and ready to spring whenever Sansa and Joffrey were together, according to the pack sense Ranma got from his link through Fenris. Unfortunately, Sansa seemed determined to not take her direwolf's advice, treating Lady as a simple pet rather than a partner.

Mind you, Ranma thought to himself now as he once more lifted Tommen off his horse to set the young boy on the ground next to him at one of their interminable stops, the fact that she's tried to dress Lady up like a doll a time or two on this trip with Myrcella was hilarious. The image of the ladylike direwolf, bedecked with ribbons and bows, had brought the entire party to a laughing stand still for a moment as she ran away whining into the woods. Even the Queen had cracked a small smile at that.

Ranma frowned suddenly as he felt the Queen's presence behind him, moving to one side, that perfume of hers wafting towards him. She had still been slightly strange lately and Ranma wasn't really certain of what to make of that. Or of the 'discussion' (and he used the word very loosely) that they had back at the inn. It left him still uncertain what game the Queen was playing. It was obviously to promote her darling Joffrey but did that also mean that she would move against anyone she thought might be a threat to him and, if so, how? Was she personally dangerous? Ranma didn't think so, but wasn't about to place any wagers on it. Or was she only dangerous because she was Tywin Lannister's daughter? All he knew of that man certainly made him one Ranma would be wary of,. Gold could buy many things, after all, though Ranma was still getting used to the idea of someone being more dangerous through his influence than in person.

He pushed those thoughts to the side for now, reaching down to rub Fenris' head for a moment, nodding pleasantly at Myrcella who blushed brightly and moved away. She had been doing that ever since that night at the bottom of the Neck and Ranma was still bemused as to the cause of it.

Still, he ignored it once more, moving off with Tommen following him eagerly, ready to get to work on today's exercises. They had finally gotten to the point where Ranma was having him practice swinging a specially weighted blade, and Tommen was eager to get to actual sword exercises.

Myrcella hesitated for a moment, wondering if she should follow them but then she saw Joffrey approaching and saw, out of the corner of her eye, Sansa smile. She groaned before moving to join the girl she was rapidly coming to realize would become her sister. Not in the way I could wish, Myrcella thought rather tartly, and whether or not she'll be happy when she achieves her dream is up in the air, but I can't in good conscience leave her alone with him.

She discounted the chaperone presence of the septa with ease, that old woman had not taken to travel on the road very well at all and was moving as stiffly as an old crone these days, especially after she had been taken ill from something a few weeks back. The Queen had already moved to talk to her brother about something by one of the fires, getting in a word with him before he had to leave with the King on one of his numerous hunting expeditions. The rotation had not been changed since the two ill Kingsguard had recovered, something Cersei was rather irritated about.

Myrcella sighed again, but pasted a smile on her face and moved with Sansa toward Joffrey. She shivered for a moment, seeing the Hound at Joffrey's back as always as well as Ser Meryn Trant, a man whose smile scared her, made worse by the looks he sometimes sent her way when no one was looking. But then, Myrcella felt the reassuring presence behind her of Ser Oakheart, heartening her, and she went forward resolutely.

OOOOOOO

Later that day Ranma looked around suddenly, hearing raised voices from the little area by the cooking fire he and Tommen had taken over for their training. He could hear one of the voices, raised as only a voice trained to bellow over a battle field could be. "He's my boy too, damn you! If I want to send him to foster somewhere, I'll damn well do it!"

Ranma stood up, tapping Tommen gently on the head. "Hold off for now, Tommen, let's go see what your parents are yelling about."

Tommen flushed a little, embarrassed but nodded and moved with him. Before he had met Ranma, Tommen would've made himself scarce quickly if his parents were arguing, fearing the man who was his father almost as much as he wanted the man's acknowledgment; fearing his mother too, not physically but for her words, which could hurt worse than anything else. He had seen her flay men with her tongue alone and had felt it himself a time or two before this.

These days, however, Robert was acknowledging him, smiling at Tommen since he began to learn how to fight and be fit from Ranma plus, in the past two weeks, he had also begun to truly spend time with the man during their rides. Tommen wasn't really close to his father, not yet anyway, but the chance of becoming closer was there.

The two soon found the Cersei and Robert arguing with Ned standing between them trying to mediate things while everyone else had quickly gotten out of the way, though Varys and everyone else stood close enough to listen to the argument. Ranma sidled up to Ser Jory, nodding at the two arguing royals. "What sparked this?"

Jory shook his head, looking a little bemused. None of the Winterfell men had really gotten used to the fact that the King and Queen were so at odds with one another, certainly not in such an open fashion, and it took them all aback that the two royals were airing their rift in public. "The King mentioned the idea of sending Prince Tommen off to ward with some lord, his brother Lord Renly, or even up in Winterfell. The Queen exploded on him, saying Tommen was far too young for that kind of thing and she would never agree to sending him so far away. The King responded angrily, and it, well it, escalated from there."

The young prince smiled, then scowled in turn. It was nice to know that his mother cared for him, she was sort of standoffish with him and Myrcella, devoting most of her attention to his older brother, which was right and proper given that he was the Crown Prince. Yet, at the same time it made sense that he, as a younger brother, would be sent off to ward while Joffrey would not. Sending the Crown Prince off anywhere like that would imply favoritism and that just wouldn't do. The younger prince, however, could be sent and thereby tie another family closer to the crown.

Tommen looked up suddenly at the thought. If I could possibly ward with Ranma wherever he is… He looked up at Ranma, who was staring at the two arguing royals, his eyes narrowed, focusing on their body language. This wasn't the first time the two of them had argued like this, that was certain, and he could tell these arguments only ended one way. Thus, he did not see Tommen looking up at him, sudden hope in his eyes.

As the argument reached a crescendo, Ranma stepped smartly between the King and Queen, one hand grasping the King's hand right before he could raise it in a blow across the Queen's face. "Is this something you both should really be arguing about in public like this?"

That caused both Robert and Cersei to frown at him but it also knocked both of them out of the tunnel vision that had come upon them as they once again argued with one another. Robert frowned, feeling his arm gripped in Ranma's vice-like grip. He was about to bellow at the boy to let him go when he looked around, finally realizing he was about to strike his Queen in public. He really didn't care about most people's opinions but Ned was staring at him with hard, judgmental eyes, that was enough for him to pause.

"Personally," Ranma went on, "I would ask my Lord Father what he thinks of the idea that sparked this argument."

Ned smiled faintly at his sons attempt at diplomacy. It reminded Ned all too well of the times that Theon and Jon had fought, only to have their heads banged together by Ranma until they stopped. He also vowed to watch Robert more closely from now on. He knew the man hated Cersei but that was not enough reason for a man to strike his wife, as Robert had seemed about to do.

However, he concentrated on the present. "The Queen raises a good argument that Tommen is too young at the moment to be sent to ward, the usual age for such things is ten or eleven. Her point about favoritism is well taken, as well. With the impending marriage between our houses, Robert, you need to be careful not to show too much favoritism towards my house. Being a King is all about being a balancing act after all. This means of course that sending him to Renly or Stannis is out of the question, as well. The point of warding is to build relations between families and they are your brothers. Yet, at the same time," Ned now turned towards the Queen, who was wearing a triumphant expression, "Tommen should not be sent to ward in Casterly Rock because of the connection there with your father, Lord Tywin." That wiped off her smile quickly. "The best idea would be to send him to the Reach, the Vale, or to Dorne. That way you avoid any hint of favoritism and Tommen gets to see a portion of Westeros that he has previously not seen."

That perked the boy up a little from his previous disconsolate expression at not warding with Ranma and the Starks. He enjoyed learning and seeing new places would be fun, though it appeared as if it would happen in the distant future. Three whole years!

Ned went on, speaking about things he felt both should have already known. "Ser Renly's friendship with the Tyrells is well known, so perhaps House Hightower in the Reach? That would put Tommen in Old Town and the Citadel. The Vale is without true leadership at present and Dorne is such a land apart. Plus it has real cause for grudges against you that any thoughts in that direction would need to be considered seriously."

The master of whisperers, who had been listening silently, smiled at this, shaking his head. Lord Stark would have made a fantastic king, if he puts such thought into something so distant. Pity.

Robert frowned then that frowned turned upwards into a smile and he guffawed loudly slapping Ned on the shoulder. "You see, this is why I want you as my Hand! I can't get my mind around all that 'balancing act' shit! We'll think about it some other time but I'll take your words to heart." He scowled at his Queen for a moment then turned away, not apologizing to her for the argument or the fact that he had been about to raise his hand to strike at her. It wouldn't have been the first time after all.

Cersei stood there for a moment glaring after him, then nodded quite abruptly to Ranma and said sharply to him, "Remember what I said a week ago, young Stark." With that she turned away as well, heading back towards the carriage.

Everyone else moved away, going back to preparing the camp for their departure. Ned looked at his son with his head cocked to one side and Ranma shrugged. "She said 'in the game of thrones you either win or die', couldn't really tell you anything else." Not without making everything much worse and embarrassing the hell out of me, anyway.

Ned nodded, sighing faintly and showing a bit more emotion than he normally would. "This is getting more and more complicated!" Ranma nodded, then turned and moved off with Tommen once more.

OOOOOOO

The southernmost land of Westeros, Dorne was truly a kingdom set apart. Partly, it was geography. Separated by the Red mountains, Dorne was hotter and rockier than any other region in Westeros and even had the continent's only real desert. The people here also followed more Rhyonish traditions, giving their women more leeway in their choices of profession than other lands, as well as practicing a… more open and more physical sort of courting.

This land was ruled by the cagey and cunning Prince Doran Martell. He was an old man, who battled with a bad case of gout which made walking painful. Yet, there was nothing wrong with his mind and his experience made him a very dangerous political opponent. Now, he sat, staring at a message from the far North, which he had been doing off and on since it had arrived several weeks ago.

"Still staring at the missive from the northern dogs, brother?" Oberyn Martell was Doran's younger brother and, outside of their narrow, tanned faces, there was nothing in them to show that relationship. Oberyn was a middle aged man, hale and hearty, trained as a warrior, called the Sand Viper for his skill with a spear. Where his hair was still black, Doran's had been white for years and he was much older than his brother, a happenstance caused by their mother having several miscarriages and two other siblings between them, now dead. Moreover, Oberyn was known for his many dalliances with the ladies and, if you asked around, men as well, while Doren had only had one wife, who had given him three children, yet, had never really become used to Dorne and had left when the youngest had been sent away to ward with House Yronwood.

But what really set them apart wasn't their looks, but their temperament. Oberyn was wild, as hot blooded as most of his countrymen, quick to hate and quicker to act, with a bottomless rage deep inside him for what had happened to his sister, Elia Martell, during Robert's Rebellion. Doran was pensive, calm, cool, and collected, never acting unless he knew he would succeed in his endeavor and never gambling on anything. Yet, he too harbored a deep rage for what had happened to their sister.

"I am wondering what it signifies, if anything." Doran murmured, leaning back in his wheelchair and looking around the Water Gardens, gardens that were entirely fed by water funneled by a series of aqueducts. "It could just be a woman trying to make the best match for her son and house or it could be a sign of the Starks rise to ascendency. One would be amusing, the other, dangerous for us and the interests of Dorne."

"Bah!" Oberyn spat to one side. "The wolves might not have been the ones who sacked King's Landing and I'll give you that Eddard Stark would not have allowed the slaughter of Elia and her children but they still support the Usurper. I doubt that any close relation between the two of us would be a good idea, or even very profitable."

"True enough. Lord Stark should know that just as well as us, yet, he allowed his wife to sound us out about this. And my spies have reported that the Queen of Thorns has asked for a meeting between Margaery Tyrell and this Ranma Stark in King's Landing, to see if they are compatible. Of course, with that woman, nothing is as it seems but I have to wonder what game she is currently playing."

The two brothers turned as a feminine chuckle resounded around. Arianne, Doran's oldest daughter, was a petite thing at five feet two inches, yet that did not in any way take away from her beauty. She had long, thick black hair that fell in curls down her back, perfect olive colored skin with large, full breasts barely covered by the silks she adorned herself with, as befit her station. Her eyes, which could smolder with lust and desire on a whim, were now sharp and cunning. "At least the Tyrells are acting one way or another, father. Whereas we seem to be content to sit here and wait, secure, yet out of touch."

Arianne went down to one knee in front of her father. "Let me go to King's Landing as well. This Stark boy could be interesting and, even if not, it hardly matters. I will be there to look for advantages for our family. We've had reports of Robert's drinking himself into an early grave and the rise of the Lannisters before this. Surely we should act to nip that in the bud." No one in this family ever called Robert, King. Oberyn, in fact, had never done so even in Robert's presence.

"If I could trust you to keep your cool and your mind on the job, I might well have thought to send you." Doran replied calmly, raising one hand to touch Arianne's hair. "Yet, you have too much of my brother in you, child. Besides, you would hate the North, the cold would kill you in short order and, if Olenna has already opened up talks for Margaery's hand, then we would be coming in too late to get enough out of the talks to interest me."

"I am getting tired of waiting here!" Arianne cried, shooting to her feet and stamping her foot angrily. "You have been saying we will avenge Aunt Elia's death for years, yet you haven't taken a single act in that direction. Is your grand plan to avenge her to simply outlive her killers?"

Doran lost his temper for a moment. "Enough! There are plans in the works, plans I am not at liberty to tell you but in which you will play a major part. To that end, you must simply wait for the opportune time." The Prince of Dorne leaned back, calming himself. "A scorpion is patient, my dear, and thus only needs to strike once to allow its poison to work. A scorpion can kill anything with a single strike, whereas even the mighty cobra might need more than one. Yet, you are correct, we need to have an eye in King's Landing."

"Oberyn, you may go. Keep your eyes open and sound out the Starks in particular about what they will do when Robert dies, especially if their hatred for the Lannisters has cooled. Also, find out if there is any truth to the rumors that Jon Arryn might have been poisoned. You may take your squire and two of your daughters, as well. We need information and if there is any chance to weaken the Lannisters, I want to know about it.

"You are not to act on your own though." he hastened to add, seeing his far younger brother's eyes light up with eagerness. "Merely report back to me on anything that happens."

"Of course, brother. I would never dream of acting without your approval." His pious tone fooled none of them. To one side, forgotten for the moment, Arianne's eyes narrowed as she began to make plans of her own.

OOOOOOO

The trip passed uneventfully for the next two days and they began to see actual signs along the road, giving them directions towards King's Landing as well as signs for the rather famous Crossroads Inn. Robert saw this and sighed. "That means were nearly home, damn it! Oh well, it was fun while it lasted."

He looked down at Ranma. "What do you say, lad, could you race ahead and tell the inn we're on our way?" He pulled out a small ring from a pouch, tossing it carelessly to Ranma. "Show them that if they don't believe you when you tell them you're from the King."

Ranma grinned and sped off without another word, instead of jogging, moving into an easy, ground devouring lope with Fenris at his heels letting out a loud, happy bark. Robert looked in shock at the speed of the lad then laughed aloud. "Young Wolf, indeed!"

Ranma raced ahead, glad to get away from the party once more. About an hour's travel, which would be practically an entire day's ride for the rest of the party, brought Ranma within sight of the huge Crossroads Inn. It consisted of several buildings around one main one, four stories tall, with wide walls around a central area. It could easily hold the Baratheons and Starks, plus their servants and the Kingsguard, though not the rest of their party.

Ranma turned his attention away from the inn when he saw a man sitting on a horse by the side of the road that he felt probably lead toward the Vale lands. The man was tall and lean, his features, from what Ranma could see as he ran closer, were lined and weathered with gray hair visible even from here. Though, as Ranma trotted closer, he could also see a hint or two of auburn.

As Ranma got even closer he could see the man had bushy eyebrows. As Ranma slowed down he could tell the man also wore excellent chain mail and had a cloak fastened by clasp in the form of a black painted trout. That gave Ranma the last hint he needed at the man's identity and he began to laugh.

The noise caught the man's attention and he turned from looking down the road toward the Vale to the young man who had been jogging easily along the road from further North. As the young man stopped, the man took in his weathered features speaking of the North, his dark hair tied into a ponytail, blue eyes much like his own, only deeper. The young man, with that hard gaze, the muscles visible under his clothing, and the confident expression, he was a man there could be no doubt, also wore a good leather jerkin under good chain mail. And, as if he needed it with the large wolf at his side, his belt buckle was shaped into a wolf's head.

Ranma looked up at the man smiling widely. "If my lady mother described you accurately, you would be my great uncle, Brynden Tully?"

The man smirked down at him and when he spoke, it was with a hoarse, almost smoky voice. He slipped out of the saddle easily, before grasping Ranma's arm warmly. "Aye lad, I am that. Catelyn described you to a T, as well. Good to finally meet you, kinsman."

Ranma grinned, pulling the man into a hug, which Brynden returned. The Tullys were never one to stand on ceremony with family members and Brynden was even less inclined in that direction than his other kin. When he pulled back, he held Ranma at arm's length, looking at Ranma, analyzing him. He was not known as one of the most intelligent knights in Westeros for nothing and he quickly realized that this young man was something special. He had a strength in his form that was astonishing and a barely concealed energy. Whether that was all, he could not say, yet, but Brynden would watch for more. The warhammer on his back made Brendan almost compare Ranma to Robert in his youth; A Robert that had never taken to wenching, drink, or carousing of any kind.

He finally let go, smiling faintly, though there was some worry in his eye. "Come, Ranma, let's go inside and sit down. I have things to tell you. Your lady mother did not convince me to leave my post as Knight of the Gate just on the chance to meet you, her message has… things we must talk about. Where is the rest of the King's party? Surely, you didn't run off and leave them behind. I wouldn't blame you but…"

Ranma laughed a little. "No, they'll be along eventually. The King sent me ahead to ready rooms for them here."

Brynden looked at him sharply at the rather sour way Ranma had said 'the King'. "I see we must talk." he said reflectively. As Knight of the Gate, Brynden was able to hear a lot of news from anyone using the main, in fact, only real, road into the Vale and it was that information which Catelyn hoped would he would use to aid her husband and son. Brynden led the way inside in and sat at a table waiting while Ranma talked with the innkeeper. Soon, Ranma was back and Brendan looked at him with calculating eyes. "So, before we get to what my lady niece has to say, tell me what's been going on? From your perspective, I mean."

That made Ranma's eyebrow rise in surprise but at the older man's cool, contemplative look, he nodded and began to relate everything that had happened from the moment the King arrived in Winterfell. He also informed Brynden of what might be happening up north, though didn't tell him about anything mystical. He could tell that his uncle could see there was more than what he was saying and smiled faintly.

His mother had often said that on top of being the one all the youngsters went to when they had problems, Brynden seemed to see things that others missed and had the ability to pull information out of anyone. This was proven as Brynden led him on with small leading questions, pulling information from Ranma that he would probably not have shared otherwise, even information that Ranma didn't realize he possessed, like discerning the real thrust of Varys' interest in him or that the eunuch had been making an effort since leaving the Neck to fade into the background. Ranma hadn't actually noticed at all.

"You see, the master of whisperers is a consummate politician, not just a spy leader but, at times, a spy himself. He can learn more by being silent than you could tell him in your answers. He was trying to figure you out. Lord Stark, your father, he knows from years ago. The Ironborn Rebellion and even THE rebellion with its aftermath brought them into contact. But you, he did not know and the unknown can scare someone whose business it is to know everything. I daresay by this point he has a much better read on you, possibly a better one than you could want."

Ranma nodded and went on with his story. At last his tale ended. Brynden sat thoughtfully silent for a few moments before speaking again, staring at his niece's son with one hand cupped under his chin. "There is more that you have not yet told me about this threat rising beyond the Wall," he said bluntly, "but keep it secret for now, lad. I am a proven skeptic, after all, and things of that nature don't sit well with me."

Even so, that very sentence told Ranma that he had guessed what might be lying out there, though it gave no hint of whether or not he believed it. "Still and all," The older man went on, "it's also obvious to me why my dear niece wanted me to come and meet you."

"Will there be any trouble from this? I mean, you were Knight of the Gate weren't you? Surely, Aunt Lysa would be irritated by it?"

Brynden waved one hand airily, though there was nothing airy about his eyes. "Lysa sees shadows where there are none and enemies where there are friends. She seems to have gone almost entirely around the bend since her husband's death, though I would have been shocked if you would've told me she cared so much for him even a week before his death. They were not a loving couple, indeed, I would've said she hated him."

"What about my mother's message for me?" Ranma asked, eager to hear from home.

Brynden smiled and pulled out a small leather satchel. He reached inside, taking out a piece of parchment, folded many times over to be small enough to slip into a raven's carrying case. There was another one beside this, which Ranma supposed was for his father. Ranma eagerly took the note from his great uncle, reading it quickly while Brynden sat quietly. In it, Catelyn described what had been going on since he and Ned had left Winterfell. The attack from the former Bolton men, who had somehow gotten down to Winterfell, the assassination attempt on Bran's life, both of these drew frowns from Ranma, though the rest of the note, which said the logistics aspect of the whelming was going well and the notes about her continuing pregnancy. Arya's continued training under Dacey and the notes about Bran waking up, made Ranma smile.

"So, some good news and some bad, Ranma?" Brynden quipped. "You'll need to work on not showing your emotions so clearly."

"Oh, I can do that already, if I think about it." Ranma replied, then tapped the table thoughtfully. "I suppose you know much of what my mother mentions to me?" Brynden nodded grimly. "It is all still guesswork but it isn't painting a pretty picture."

That drew a bark of laughter from the Blackfish. "Hah, that would just be business as usual in politics." He went on more grimly. "Before your father gets here, let me tell you what I know of the conditions at court. Mind you, since Lord Renly was the regent during this little jaunt of his highness, some of this might have changed."

"Shouldn't we wait for my father or is this so interesting that you want to do it twice?" Ranma asked, smiling faintly.

Brynden paused then nodded. "Good point, lad." He raised a hand to grab the attention of the barmaid, asking her wordlessly to bring over some ale for the two of them. He watched, rather amused, as Ranma pushed his mug to one side, not touching it and looking across at him. "So, tell me about any adventures you've had before all this began."

The two of them talked for hours exchanging tales, waiting for the King and his party to show up, while at Ranma's feet Fenris sat, his eyes closed. Until that is, a bard in the far corner began a song called the wolves of Winterfell. After a few lines, Brynden watched amused as his kinsman's face paled, then reddened with irritation. "By the old gods, he promised me, no damn flowing locks!" Ranma paused, while the two listened to the song, then Ranma shuddered visibly. "Ugh, why the hell did he change his own gender in the tale? That's just…"

Brynden was indeed very intelligent. Thus he was easily able to put what he was hearing from the bard together with what he knew about Ranma's history. So when he heard that part he began to laugh, loud and long.

About an hour later, the King's party finally arrived. Reactions to Brynden's being there were mixed in the company. Jaime and Ser Barristan regarded him as a fellow warrior, as did most of the knights, not caring about why he was there. He was a well-known and well-respected knight for his part in the Ninepenny Kings War and had fought in Robert's Rebellion as well. Robert greeted him warmly and took it as truth that he was merely here to be with his kinsmen.

The Queen, on the other hand, did not welcome his presence. Brynden was far too bright and watchful for her tastes with none of the naïveté that plagued Ranma and his father. Moreover, he had more knowledge of the way the world really worked here in past the Neck, which wasn't good for her ambitions. She still hoped to, at the very least, not make enemies of the Starks, but knew that Ned would do the 'honorable thing', which would almost certainly put them at opposing sides in the near future.

Sansa was ecstatic on meeting a new family member, having heard tales of Brynden Tully from her mother. He also figured prominently in several bards tales for his role in the war that had won him his knighthood.

Brynden was gentle as he gathered her into a hug, ignoring her formal curtsy. "By the Seven, lass!" he exclaimed quietly. "Look at you! Your mother sent me a small sketch of you when you were six but, by the seven, look at you now! You look just like your mother did when she was your age." Sansa blushed rosily at both the hug and the comparison, since in her youth Catelyn Tully was known as one of the most beautiful women in the Riverlands.

That night the majority of the King's party stayed up late, carousing in the inn's main room along with Brynden, Ned and, for the first time, Ranma. They stayed up well into the night, but unlike the rest, Brynden and the two Stark men did not get drunk. They were still sober when they met that evening in the room the trio was going to share, along with Ser Jory, who was 'stepping out' at that moment with one of the barmaids.

Brynden immediately handed the note from Lady Catelyn to Ned, who devoured it with hungry eyes. Unlike Ranma, who had shown his emotions on his face when reading his note, which he had burned following Brynden's advice, Eddard showed no emotion other than the skin tightening around his eyes.

When he was done, Eddard looked up at Brynden. "I see. So, everything is pointing at the Lannisters being up to something."

"And what Bran saw was not a Kingsguard rutting with someone he shouldn't but something much worse." Ranma muttered, then frowned. "But the knife could have been a plant, right, to make us look even closer at the Lannisters. By the old gods, this is damn confusing."

"True." Eddard chuckled, though there was no humor in the sound. "I am afraid however we still need more to go on. As you say, the knife could have been a plant, nothing you or I have seen is conclusive of anything but bad blood between the King and Queen and their children, which, thanks to your efforts, seems to be fading in at least one case. Without Bran's memory, we have nothing solid against the Lannisters."

"Solid or not, you should realize they are a threat." Brynden cautioned.

"True. Now, Brynden, my wife trusts you to aid us and I know you and trust your judgment. So tell us, what are we heading into in King's Landing? Do you have any idea why the Lannisters are stretching their muscles?"

"It isn't so much stretching their muscles as acting with muscles they already have. Robert is a fantastic general and was an excellent warrior," Brendan said calmly, "but as a king he is a figurehead, at best. I wouldn't say he's a horrible king. We've had worse, obviously, but he doesn't really rule."

Ned frowned sadly, while Ranma merely grunted, making a get on with it gesture. Brynden went on. "The real power is the Council. The King's Hand wields quite a bit of power but even he must answer to the Council. It will be imperative for us to discover where they all stand. Ser Barristan is on the council, but rarely speaks up, Renly is master of law, but spends as much time as he can get away with in the Reach. It is rumored he has a lover there but no one knows for certain. He can be counted on to promote the King's interest, but he isn't actually very learned in law. 'Tis rumored he is more a moderating influence than anything else but he also looks out for his own interests."

"And he's the one the King left as regent?" Ranma asked, addressing both the older men. "Is that why?"

Eddard frowned. "Renly was left as regent because Robert favors him over Stannis and trusts him. As regent, his power would be limited but I wonder what if anything he has made of Jon Arryn's death."

"I have no idea but there has been no news of any other upheaval since Lord Arryn's death." Brynden replied. "Stannis is master of Ships but his duties often have him away from the council, as well. With Stannis, it really is his duty. That man takes all his duties seriously and can be found in Dragonstone ruling there or with the fleet. A decent power base but not a political or monetary one, made worse by the fact that all know of the bad blood between Stannis and Robert. That bad blood was made worse, at least, according to rumor, by your opponent over him as Hand, Ned."

"I've heard from Maester Luwin in our studies that Renly was given Storm's End over the older brother but never what caused the bad blood between Stannis and Robert in the first place."

Eddard winced, knowing this wouldn't go over well. "For one, they are just simply too different in personality to get along. For another, Stannis led the assault that took Dragonstone from the Targaryen holdouts but failed to capture and kill the last two children of the Mad King, Viserys and Daenerys. Daenerys was born on the island."

"So he hates his brother for not killing two children of the family that wronged him. Lovely." Ranma growled.

"His hatred for all things Targaryen is indeed all consuming." Brynden quipped, trying to lighten the mood before going on. "Grand Maester Pyrcelle is the spokesmen of the Citadel but is known to be a political animal, almost as corrupt as the High Septon, which might mean he has been bought by Lannister gold."

"Okay, the High Septon is corrupt too? Oh, septa Mordane is not going to be pleased." Ranma didn't really like the septa much but he respected her power of faith and the fact she was devoted to her charges and said faith.

"I can't say I know the lady. Next is Petyr Baelish, Lord Arryn's appointment to master of coins. I… I have no idea about him, his loyalties these days, or how good he is at his job. It was a surprise appointment, though I believe Petyr is intelligent enough to do a good job. He… he will be on the watch for anything that can be used to his own advantage but I just can't say with any truth where that will take him or if he will aid us for loyalties sake. Oh, the Queen is known to take part of the council sessions, if informally. "

"So let me get this straight, the council is the power behind the throne. On said council, we've got two who are sometimes absent and possibly not on our side, one who is, at best, playing his own game, a Queen who has possibly bought another councilor who, again, is playing her own game, and a eunuch with pedophile tendencies who, a third time, is playing his own game. Needless to say, these games are for their own good, rather than the good of Westeros as a whole or us in particular. Ouch!" Ranma winced, remembering all too clearly Cersei's warning about the game of thrones.

He kept worrying at that problem and the growing suspicion that the Queen was in fact the most dangerous of their opponents, at least in the short term. On the outside, Ranma continued to listen intently as Brynden discussed what else he knew, which, alas, read more as a series of rumors than anything else. Why the Lannisters were stretching their muscles, he did not really know, though he had heard that Jon Arryn was looking into the King's bastards. That made Ned frown but that gave him a starting point. Brynden finished up with, "I have some contacts in King's Landing in the poor sections and the harbor, so I will be able to find out more when we get there."

Ranma groaned again, causing the two older men to chuckle darkly. None of them were looking forward to the end of their journey now but were willing to go on. The next day, Brynden joined the party.

From then on the journey became much more fun interesting for Ranma, with Brynden and Ranma getting to know one another. The old knight and Ned also took turns to begin testing Ranma's geographic knowledge at random. They made up military scenarios for him and Joffrey to solve. Robert too wanted to see his eldest son's military ability.

Robert soon let off on it, realizing that his son didn't show the aptitude for anything martial Ranma did. His beliefs were too unrealistic and too vainglorious. Joffrey fully believed that as crown prince he was unbeatable, and that conviction bled out into his view on strategy and anything else.

Ranma on the other hand was quick, always on the lookout for tricks to use to minimize his own casualties while smashing his enemies.

At Robert's behest Tommen joined these little lessons but didn't seem to take them as seriously as he should, which Robert put down to his age. Still and all, he was well pleased with how his youngest was turning out on this trip, glad to see at last one of his legitimate sons was acting almost like a son of his should, even if he still didn't look like him.

OOOOOOO

"He killed what!?" Lady Catelyn asked, her eyebrows rising in astonishment as she looked at young Meera Reed, who, along with her brother, had arrived with several carts, apparently carrying the skin and bones of a single lizard lion. "What in the world was he doing?"

"I know not why or even how he appeared, milady, but Ranma saved my life. That monster was close to finishing me off and it had killed several dozen hunters before me." Meera said, still kneeling in front of where Catelyn sat next to Bran in the main hall of Winterfell. Now that Bran was awake, there was no reason to continue to use the healing hall as the center of the keep's business so life had returned to more normal lines. The only real difference was that it was Bran sitting in the Lord's seat, rather than his father or older brother.

Jon looked up from reading the note from his brother, smiling faintly. "I hope that you are up to the challenge, Mikken? From what I hear lizard lion skin grows tougher as they age, something like this, it would be as good as plate mail."

"Aye, Jon, t'would, and would be as flexible as leather. Perfect fer your style or that of the lass and the rest of you wolf-sworn." Mikken was an older man, with a balding head and short cropped white beard. Still, his shoulders were broad and he was skilled in his craft, acting as both blacksmith and armorer. He was skilled enough to make Fang for Arya, Theon's ugly short sword, and Jon's short swords. None but Fang were true challenges but he was eager for the chance to work with such an exotic material as the lizard lion skin. He had been called into the hall when Meera arrived.

"In that case, when you have a good idea of what you want to do, tell me when you want me and I'll make time for fittings." Jon responded. Arya pulled on his sleeve from where she was leaning against the wall next to him behind the Lord's seat. He shook his head, motioning that she was still growing a point that caused her to nod agreement yet pout at the same time.

Sitting next to his mother, Bran ignored all this, trying hard not to look at Jojen, who was staring at him with wide eyes. Something in them worried Bran, as if Jojen represented something but he couldn't tell what. All he knew was that it had something to do with the odd dreams he had been having off and on. They were so confusing he didn't really like thinking about them but Jojen's stare was telling him that he might have to face them, and what they meant, in the near future.

"Arya, show Jojen and Meera to their rooms, they'll be staying with us for a time." Catelyn said, bringing Bran back to the here and now. Jojen looked as if he wanted to speak, but his sister hurried him out of the hall, seeing the Winterfell maester waiting along one wall with a raven message in hand. He kept looking at Bran as the two followed Arya out, trailed by Mikken, rubbing his hands excitedly.

Bran looked to his mother to see if he could be excused but she shook her head. "I realize you don't have much to contribute Bran but as the Stark of Winterfell, you must take part in these discussions." The young boy nodded glumly, reaching down to pat Summer's head where it lay in his lap.

Now that the Reeds and the blacksmith were gone, the group became much less formal, with Jon pulling chairs around to form a loose circle around the Lord's seat. In fact, they wouldn't have been formal in the first place if not for Meera being here to speak for her family. For that there were certain formalities that had to be addressed. Catelyn still was in charge, of course, and she proved this by speaking first, though the topic wasn't as serious as normal. "What does Ranma have to say, Jon?" Needless to say she had already read the message from her husband, which was more of a love letter than anything serious, mentioning offhand the fact that nothing untoward had occurred and that her children were getting on with the Baratheon children.

"Beyond giving us all our love and hoping that Bran has recovered by this point it says, and I quote, 'Traveling is slow. The King is a drunk, his eldest a stuck up ass, but the two youngsters are nice enough. Sansa is still acting lovestruck. I miss Winterfell already, oh, and I killed a lizard lion.'" Jon replied drolly, causing the people around him to laugh. "My brother has never been good at communicating via the written word but it does get the gist across. Unfortunately, I bet that any trouble will have happened after they left the Neck, so this note really doesn't tell us anything."

After that moment however the meeting turned to other things, with Maester Luwin relaying the messages that had arrived by raven. "Lord Mormont has sent word. Smalljon came ahead to the Wall after setting up the first group of smallfolk in the Gift. They have been set up in a single area and are building a holdfast, around which their community is going to be kept small, so that they can pull back into it at need. The farmers report that they can begin to plant right away but, of course, it will take time before they can harvest anything."

Luwin sighed, shaking his head. "Given the weather being colder here, I fear we may soon see a real winter, unless it is a false winter like years past of course. Even so, they might be able to get in a single harvest before autumn is declared. I would caution everyone to begin hoarding now."

"It will be a real winter." Bran and Jon said together. They looked at one another while around them their family and advisors all wondered about why the brothers both sounded so certain. Jon shook himself and smiled at the old maester. "Your advice is good and we have already informed the farmers of Stark lands to begin doing so."

Luwin nodded and went on. "Smalljon also said his party was attacked in the Gift by a large band of wildling raiders, a hundred strong. He sustained losses, as did the Norrey scouts, but they were able to get some information about the King Beyond the Wall from them. His name is Mance Ryder and Commander Mormont says he is a former Night's Watchman."

Jon and Ser Rodrick both winced. At the younger man's nod Rodrick elaborated, his voice gruff. "That will mean the wildlings will be better organized and led than they have been under other Kings. He may also know where the Wall's defenses are weakest and concentrate his assault. It may prove to be a very good thing that Lord Tyrion went with our forces, his knowledge of siege craft might be the decisive factor."

Catelyn scowled at the mention of the Lannister Imp, but Jon moved the discussion on quickly, seeing that Luwin was done. "The messenger I sent to the Wull clan came back. He reports that the Wull has no idea how the men got through their lands, and are willing to 'give us geld' to repay their dishonor. To that end he has promised 'full dross', a full whelming, of his men if we call on them." Jon still thought something or someone else had aided the ex-Bolton men, but wasn't willing to say it out loud nor could he prove it in this instance.

His report brought Catelyn out of her thoughts about the Lannisters and their plots. "That would be what, five hundred men?" Rodrick and Jon both nodded, that was about what they would estimate the Wulls or the Flints, the two most powerful clans, could put out. "I don't think we should call on them for the Wall, the mountain clans can't mobilize as fast as we can and they would be a burden on our foodstuffs the entire way North."

"I would recommend we send another messenger and ask the Wull, the clan chief, to come down and speak to us in person here, to tell him of the news further south, like we have the other Lords only a bit more. That way we can show we still have confidence in him and his clan, which may make them react even faster to our summons, if we do need them." Jon interjected.

That made sense and the conversation continued. Bran took part in the next topic, his eyes alight with eagerness. Since he had recovered, Bran had decided to mold his thoughts around a conversation he had with Ranma, about not needing to be a warrior, instead he would be a builder. He had taken over designing the necessary pulley systems to get barges down the waterfalls that broke up the White Knife, corresponding with one of Lord Manderly's surveyors to do the same thing in Manderly territory. He also was planning ahead for the days when the river would freeze and had devised ways to still use the waterway even so, with the barges fitted with huge runners.

Catelyn and Jon both smiled at the young boy's eagerness, hoping his plans worked half as well as he thought they would. Catelyn took over then, telling how the Glass Garden, a glass enclosed garden heated by the hot springs underneath Winterfell, was going to be expanded and turned over entirely to the growth of foodstuffs. With that, hunting, and careful rationing, Winterfell could feed itself and the small town around it even in the depths of winter. The plan had come from her and maester Luwin, as well as designs found in the library from days long past.

As the talk continued, Jon leaned back, letting the others dominate the discussion as he thought about other things. He thought about the White Walkers, those inhuman foes beyond the Wall. He thought of the wildlings and what it would take to make peace with them, if it was possible at all, because he knew that they and the White Walkers were going to be only two of many enemies that reared their heads soon. On the heels of that thought, Jon wondered what was really going on down South. He wondered about Sansa, his father, and brother and what they might be facing, what the future had in store for them all. Then he vowed once more to himself, that come what may, when they returned, and he was certain they would return, Ranma would see to that, that the North would still be here. Winterfell would still be here, their family would still be here to welcome them home, strong as ever. For though we are far apart, like a pack of wolves, we are together still…

OOOOOOO

The rest of the journey to King's Landing passed swiftly without any more additions to the party or changes to the daily routine. Robert now insisted that Ranma and Tommen travel with him at the front of the cavalcade, which angered the Queen, who didn't like her baby boy being out of sight like that but Robert put his foot down sharply. He continued to try in his ham-handed way to reach out to the boy, not really doing anything with him but regaling him with tales of his own early life and including him in the 'discussions' that Eddard and Brynden tossed Ranma's way about geography and warfare.

Ranma enjoyed himself during what amounted to tactics and strategy classes given by three of the best. Say what you would about his personality, Robert was a very good general and his problems, despite not being as varied as Ned's or Brynden's, were built around real life questions. He always wanted Ranma and Tommen to do better than the reality had been in those battles of his youth or ancient history, even with him or the others in their party, including Jaime at times, taking over the opposing side. He treated it like a game, but his eyes were shrewd as he watched Ranma and his youngest son, most particularly Joffrey on those few occasions the boy would make an appearance. Of course, Ranma took to this like any other kind of combat and he learned just as much about the King and Jaime as they learned about the way he said he would do things.

The questions that Brynden asked the 'kids' were in particular very tough, with most of them covering small unit tactics. Small unit tactics, along with skirmish actions of all sorts and battles in hard terrain, were the Blackfish's specialty. After the first such question, Brynden always made a point of saying that Ranma couldn't just power his way through them by himself, which had been Ranma's answer. When he tried to bring the boy to task he was surprised that Ned backed his son up, stating quietly that he could do that.

That night, the two Stark men filled their kinsmen in on some of Ranma's abilities, though not all of them, since Ranma had gone to some lengths to hide many of them from everyone, even Jon and his father. For example, his new ki armor technique would come as a severe shock to anyone as would the ability to project his ki as various weapons and into his own weapons to make them deadlier.

They didn't give Brynden any kind of explanation for where he got his abilities but the Tully knight seemed to take that in stride. His loyalty was to his family and to his personal honor. So long as Ranma was both family and did nothing to dishonor the family then Brynden would have no problem with them.

While Ranma and his father took these conversations seriously, regardless of how it was treated by everyone else, Tommen simply thought it was a fun kind of game and, while he learned, he in no way took it seriously. Still, it was telling that his strategies were never as… removed from reality as Joffrey's answers remained. Tommen cared for his troops and smallfolk and all his answers tried to protect those two groups. He rarely won because of this but at least his questions didn't drive Robert to yell at him as he often yelled at Joffrey for his irrational belief in his own infallibility.

Speaking of Joffrey he had, thankfully in Ranma's opinion, backed off from his enmity for Ranma. He was actually acting quite nicely these days to everyone, not just around his parents or those of equal stature, unfortunately solidifying Sansa's 'love' for him. Ranma still didn't trust him. His eyes never matched his new attitude and Ranma caught him sometimes, when Joffrey thought he was unobserved, glaring at Ranma as well as Fenris. Still, he didn't seem prepared to push things any longer.

In reality, Joffrey was playing the waiting game and was willing to spend most of his time in the carriage, where he could feel Myrcella watching his every move, something he despised but could do nothing about. Myrcella ignored his attempts to hurt her under the guise of 'stretching' and kicking her, or punching her when Sansa and the other's were not watching. The one time he had tried to do the same to Tommen when he joined them at Cersei's demand, she pushed him, spoiling his aim. The girl had gained courage somehow, though Joffrey had no idea where it came from.

Still, they were nearing King's Landing, near the place of power for him and the other Lannisters, a battleground where he had all the advantages, as well as the backing of several powerful figures. Once there, he could find ways of causing trouble for the young Stark, without it being traced back to him. He, Myrcella, Tommen, and several others were still Joffrey's targets, but he could wait. If there was one thing this trip had taught him, it was to hide his true feelings. He owed that's to his mother turning on him so suddenly about the direwolf issue so many weeks back, though she was still his staunchest supporter, thankfully.

He even understood what she was saying about wanting to wait but felt his mother was wrong. Cersei didn't want to make Ranma an enemy of her family unless she absolutely had to. She hoped to hide certain truths from the Starks and thus keep from open conflict, where Ranma's abilities, those she could see, scared her. She was astonished they didn't scare Jaime or any of the others but still believed that the boy was a threat they should do their best not to face openly.

Joffrey knew that they were already enemies. He did not know the terrible truth that Cersei was hiding, that neither he nor his siblings were in fact the King's children. He was simply looking out for himself. A king could not survive, in his opinion, if there was someone nearby who burned brighter than him, who was more important, more powerful, than the king. Ranma, by his very nature, gathered to him the attention that should've been Joffrey's, something he could not allow.

While the Queen knew Eddard and Brynden were the true threats to her plans (and her life, future, and everything else), Joffrey was single-mindedly focused on Ranma and the effect he was having on those around him, particularly his siblings. The elder Stark, Joffrey could care less about, feeling the adults would handle the adults.

Ranma knew nothing about his enemy's thoughts or that he had gained an enemy for life rather than an egotistical boy's ire. As they started on the last day of their journey, Ranma exited the tent he shared with his great uncle and father to see King's Landing, visible in the distance. It sat in the land like a squat, spiked hill with three tops.

About an hour after the party set off, Ranma and the others could see a band of mounted men coming down the road toward them. They had seen traffic for much of their journey going in both directions but normally the scouts were easily up to 'convincing' the rest of the traffic to make way. This time, Ranma could see that they allowed this group through.

About twenty minutes later, the group had come within hailing distance. The man in the lead, who wore a suit of enameled green armor and a helmet with a pair of golden antlers, raised a hand in greeting, shouting aloud. "Hail, brother. I see you have escaped the cold of the North without any trouble and brought back your prize is well! Hello Ned, how are you?" The man speaking was Renly Baratheon, Robert's youngest brother.

Ned shook his head, bemused as usual by the way Renly tried to be so friendly to everyone around him. The two of them had met many times, but Ned had never been friends with the younger Baratheon. Eddard was closer in temperament to Stannis than Renly, but at least he felt that Renly was loyal to Robert, which was enough.

As they got closer, Ranma could make out more of his features. Renly was a handsome man with neatly combed black hair falling to his shoulders and light blue eyes. His body was trim, yet not muscular, and his face clean shaven, much like Ranma's own.

When they were within touching distance, the two brothers leaned over their mounts to clasp arms. Renly looked down at where Ranma was standing between the King and the horse carrying the littlest prince. He wondered why it was Tommen up here rather than Joffrey, though any of the three being near Robert was a surprise. "And who is the boy? Surely, you don't need help to get off of your horse, Robert…" he paused, as Fenris loped up from the rest of the party, coming to a stop beside Ranma with his tongue lolling out a little. Now nearly the size of a small pony, the direwolf looked simply monstrous in comparison to most wolves or dogs, a fact that caused many of the knights behind Renly to grab their swords in shock.

At his brother's gob smacked expression, Robert laughed, waving one hand expansively at the wolf and Ranma. "This is Ranma Stark, Ned's oldest boy, and that is his pet, Fenris. Large, isn't it? Still the boy's got it well-trained, never saw the like."

One of the knights laughed quietly. He was an exceptionally handsome young man with long, flowing brown hair framing a face without blemish or mark, dominated by golden eyes. His armor had what looked like jeweled flowers on it at points.

The carriage had come up as the party stopped and spread out. Within, Sansa and Jeyne began to talk excitedly to one another as they stared with blushing faces at Ser Loras Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers, a living legend thanks to his beauty and gallantry.

Loras flashed the carriage a bright smile and a bow, causing the girls inside to nearly swoon, but he had already turned back to Ranma. "So you're the one who might be marrying my sweet sister? I don't know whether to congratulate you, warn you if you hurt her I'll kill you, or commiserate with you. Do not get me wrong. Margaery is a great beauty and very intelligent but she abhors the very idea of cold, having never actually felt it in her life. She was not well pleased to hear that she might be marrying you and thus be forced to move to Winterfell."

Ranma turned to him from looking up at Renly with one eyebrow raised but his glance sharpened on the other young man. "You must be the Rose Knight I've heard so many songs and stories about, most of them from the two blushing maidens in the carriage, admittedly." Ranma bowed slightly but didn't remove his eyes from the man. The stories were equally split in talking about the Tyrell knight's handsomeness and his deadliness with the blade or lance. Despite how he looked, this man held himself like a knight, and was much more dangerous than he appeared.

Loras, too, looked down at Ranma, his gaze changing from humorous to searching. The two of them began to talk, mostly commiserating about sisters much to Sansa's chagrin. This was a cover for analyzing each other as young men who were certain in their strength often did with one another.

After only about ten minute's observation, Ranma formed a positive opinion of Loras. Underneath his handsome good looks there was a blade, waiting and ready. He was almost like Jaime in terms of skill but nowhere near as cocksure or blind as the older man.

On the other hand, in Ranma's opinion Renly was simply a good-looking man who was well spoken, but Ranma felt he cared a bit too much about appearances and seeming. Charismatic certainly, but soft. He had dismissed Ranma after that first gaping glance at Fenris, which was rather stupid. He seemed much more interested in the fact that Tommen was up here and that Robert seemed to be almost friendly to the boy.

Loras was different from Jaime however in one, much bigger factor. He hadn't crossed blades with Ranma, yet, and so was forming of his opinion of him through his words and his manner. No tales except for one bard song had reached this far south of the Young Wolf but even observing Ranma for a few moments, Loras could tell that he was something special. Every movement seemed controlled, every racing step certain and sure as he jogged along with the horses when the party began to move on with the knights of Reach accompanying Renly added to the cavalcade.

"Tell me," he said casually, looking at the boy as he raced along with his warhammer on his back (due to an incident with Tommen trying to lift the thing and hurting himself, which nearly gave the queen ammunition to cancel his lessons), "are you planning to enter the tournament?"

"What tournament?"

"Robert loves tourneys as much as he loves hunting and other things." Loras replied smiling faintly. "He is bound to want to hold a tourney to celebrate your father's appointment as his Hand."

Ranma looked up at him on his horse and the two men shared calculating glances. "And are you entering this tournament?"

"I would be proud to enter and win glory for my family." The handsome Tyrell knight said smiling faintly. "And the women do love it so when I win and share my roses with the crowd."

The younger man nodded his head with a smile. "In that case, I will make certain to enter. It will be fascinating to cross swords with you."

"The words you spoke are mine as well." Loras responded with his own smile. The conversation turned once again to other things, the differences between the Reach and the Riverlands, the number of tourneys that Loras had entered before. In turn, Ranma mentioned what had been happening in his life, giving a little more detail about the Bolton incident than he normally would, as well as the run in the wolf-sworn had with Wildlings.

While this conversation was going on, a much more guarded conversation was going on nearby between Ned, Renly, and Robert. "So, has anything happened while you were acting as regent for the King?" Ned was trolling for information here, trying to see if anyone had taken advantage of the King's absence to push their own agendas. He still hadn't really come to grips with how hands-off Robert was as King. Anyone could push their own agendas while he was there, save for the most… obvious machinations.

"Nothing much." Renly replied, smiling faintly, his face and voice giving nothing away. "My brother, Stannis, once more retreated to Dragonstone a few days gone, much like he had when you 'slighted' him by not choosing him as your Hand. Robert grunted irritably at the memory of their brother's anger at this supposed slight, though his lips twitched at the droll emphasis Renly put on the word. "Although he had returned to the city a few weeks after you left, Robert. Some kind of business he was conducting here, I know not what. Just that he spent a lot of time down by the docks, so I assume it had to do with the fleet in some manner."

That news interested Ned somewhat, as he wondered what Stannis was up to but didn't help him much. "Anything else happen?"

"No nothing else, save the normal humdrum business of the kingdom running itself. Though I am afraid you will have little time to get used to the workload when we formally install you as Hand, Ned. I imagine you will, alas, find a lot of paperwork left over from Jon's sudden demise."

Though Renly said it in a flippant manner, this line brought attention to Jon Arryn's death, which was what Ned had been angling the conversation towards. With that line of thought, Ned responded quickly, yet casually, remembering Brynden's warnings to keep his thoughts close. "I am afraid you are right about that. Paperwork is one of the world's uncomfortable certainties. Just so I am prepared as I can be, do you have any idea what he was working on before he died? Any new taxes or anything like that?"

"Not at all." Renly replied, chuckling. "I was not in the city at the time. I was in the Reach conducting business there."

"Business between the sheets!" Robert guffawed. "You may be subtle about it, brother, but everyone knows you have a lover somewhere in Highgarden! We all thought it was Margaery Tyrell, but since Cat was able to convince that old ass Mace to see about a marriage between her and Ranma, I've been wondering who it is that's caught your eye enough to keep you traipsing back to Highgarden every chance you get!"

Renly chuckled and waved the question off, his entire body giving the impression he couldn't be bothered to answer the question. Ned sensed this was a new twist on an old topic of conversation for the two. Renly turned back to Ned and said formally. "I have no idea what Jon was working on. His sudden demise was unexpected and quick but he was an old man after all."

This gave Eddard no clue whatsoever about what Renly was thinking, though his apparent friendship with Robert was a mark in his favor. Ned really had no belief that the man was plotting against his brother. But, whether or not Renly was not sharing information about Jon's death because he didn't have any or because he was afraid to share it, was more than Eddard could say.

Ned wondered how to once more bring the conversation around to this topic but Robert quickly grabbed the reigns of the conversation. "Never mind that, we must have a tournament! I want to start to plan for it the moment we can, to celebrate Ned becoming my Hand! I bet that son of yours is going to join up the moment he can. He's been chomping at the bit for something physical to do this entire journey!"

"Though I will say," Robert laughed, looking over at Tommen, "he's had a good effect on the kids or, at least ,two of the three." He guffawed again, but this time the sound was sharper, less humorous, and more biting. "Some brats you just can't teach, apparently."

Renly raised an eyebrow and nodded cordially at the younger boy who smiled back at his uncle rather wanly, since Renly had never used his considerable charm to get close to the boy or any of the trio of children, really, seeing them more as pawns in the great game than family. The fact that Robert was being so affable towards one of his sons was beyond astonishing to Renly. Still, he took it in stride for now.

Around him Brynden looked at the rest of the party shrewdly, paying particular attention to where Jamie was talking quietly to the leader of the Gold Cloaks, the King's Landing City Watch, Janos Slynt. It seemed that the Kingslayer had his own man to talk to about what had been going on in their absence. He wondered where that man stood and decided that he would assume Slynt was a Lannister supporter from now on until proven otherwise.

He tried to sidle his horse backwards through the still moving cavalcade but the men noticed him coming and the conversation halted. Brynden stopped moving his horse in that direction, leaning downward as if he had thought his bridle was loose to cover the motion. Ranma looked back at him before responding to his father order to once again get up onto his horse.

By now, they were closer to the city and Ranma could make out more features, especially against the backdrop of the ocean. The sprawling size of it for one thing was astonishing to him in comparison to the only other city he had seen in this reality, White Harbor. The walls were not as impressive and there seemed to be shanty towns built right up beside the walls on all the sides he could see and he could tell even from here that houses were built right up next to them on the inside, whereas in White Harbor, the wall was surrounded by an area given over to defense, in the form of barracks training areas and rally points. Rising out of the sprawl of the main city were three hills, upon which sat two castles and some ruins, a dome collapsed in a way that was visible from here.

Soon he could tell something else. Fenris noticed it first, followed promptly by Lady, where she was running alongside the carriage carrying her mistress. Both direwolves whined and snuffled, wrinkling their noises as if in disgust. Fenris whined, looking up at his bonded, who shook his head, smells not coming over their link as well as other senses. A few hours passed and Ranma no longer needed to try to figure out what his bonded wolf was smelling. "By the old gods, what the hell!"

The southerners all laughed at him and the other Northerners who had never been to King's Landing before. The city might be the largest city in Westeros but it was also the most squalid, and above all, smelly. It reeked of refuse, excrement, and innumerable other horrible smells. Perfume wasn't a affectation here. The Queen had long ago learned to liberally dab it on to combat the smell of the city.

Ranma had no such defense and he nearly reeled in the saddle, as did many of the other Northmen. Yet they gamely continued on, slowly becoming acclimatizing to it. He even chuckled a little shaking his head as he looked ahead at the city, remembering a line from a movie he had loved the few times he had been able to escape his fiancées to see it in the theaters. "Kings Landing, you'll never find a greater hive of scum and villainy. We must be cautious."

Loras heard him and laughed aloud, bringing some attention from the others in their party, but he waved them off chuckling a little. "Truer words were never spoken, young Stark. You must indeed be cautious here."

Not an hour later, they were at the city, the horns blaring the Kings return, the gates to the city, always open for traffic which never truly stopped, now lined with Gold Cloaks to keep the crowds back, two lines of them heading deeper into the city. It was as they were passing underneath the walls that Ranma began to feel that his life was once more going to change and possibly for the worst.

End chapter

OH HOLY HELL, I am glad the whole moving from place to place thing is done now. The plot can start to move forward!

It is… unclear if Robert knew in the books about Renly being gay. It might be an 'open' secret, but hell, he missed the fact not one of his 'legitimate' children were his, when none of them had anything of his features so… yeah.

That last bit about Jon and the others at Winterfell was meant as sort of a stopping point for their story, as well as introducing the changes that are going on there. Changes will continue there as outlined but I won't be walking you, dear readers, through them. That will let me concentrate on what goes on at the Wall – Smalljon, Daryn, Jeor, Benjen, and, for those of you who are waiting for him, Tyrion, who will be in the next chapter. I will be flipping between them, Ranma, and Daenerys for now, mainly because I like to mix action with everything else.

Thank you for reading and as always please review.