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Jon Snow

Sitting at his desk Jon stared at the maps he had purchased secretly from traders at the docks laid out in front of him. Not many maps of the Gift existed, no one had bothered to care enough to map the place. Not that he blamed them. It was a mostly empty place. Unused by the North because it belonged to the Night's Watch, and neglected by the Night's Watch because they lacked the proper numbers to maintain a single town. Much less, hundreds of miles of land.

So all he had to work with was a crude layout and the location of what little towns and villages were left occupied.

On the brighter side of things, the maps of the Wall were much more detailed. The Nights Watch while mostly a group of criminals with a few noble volunteers had created detailed maps of the Wall and the castles along it.

"Of course, the ones I needed are centuries old." Jon thought pushing aside the white maps and carefully moving the ripped and crumbling yellow maps beneath Watch had dropped castle after castle from the maps they drew until there was only three. East-Watch by the Sea, Castle Black, and the Shadow Tower.

Nineteen castles and only three were manned by a scarce group of men. Battle-hardened and some of the best fighters in the seven kingdoms after repelling the smaller wildling raids but they weren't enough to stop an army of Free folk, living or dead.

"Davos at East-Watch, Half-hand at the Shadow Tower, the old bear at remaining at Castle Black." Using his ink-quill Jon copied the names of each castle on a piece of parchment starting with East Watch at the top and West watch at the bottom. Besides the castles, he wrote the names of each person he was going to have commanding that particular castle. Free Folk, and Night's Watch brothers alike if they agreed to work with him.

"Gods willing without Ser Alliser causing trouble for me, Jeor will be more willing to work for me with the promise of more men and supplies." If not he would be forced to lock anyone who resisted in the cells. He didn't want to imprison his brothers but if he had to, he would. The Night King needed to be stopped.

"Lord Blackfyre?" The voice of Tobho Mott called outside the door as the Smith knocked.

Sliding the paper with the names of his future commanders on it into his desk Jon called out to the smith. "Come in, Motto."

The door opened and the aging Smith walked in a bundle of cloth held in his arms.

Standing from his seat Jon didn't let the excitement in his chest show outwardly but it was there. Growing like a wave as Tobho drew closer and unfurled the cloth revealing two swords. Each distinctly different from the steel of a regular sword.

One, a blade that was dark as night yet seemed to glow in the light. Dragonglass.

And the other covered in distinctive rippled patterns as if the metal was moving. Valyrian.

"You did it," Jon whispered taking the Dragonglass sword out of the smith's hands. He had heard that Tobho had been the Smith responsible for melting down Ice, the Stark's ancestral sword, but seeing was believing.

Slashing the sword through the air careful to keep the blade far from Tobho Jon frowned at how weightless the weapon was in his hands. Men would have to train to get used to the difference.

"Are the weapons satisfactory, my lord?" Tobho asked.

"Can you make more?" Jon answered with his own question. He had been told that Davos had returned with enough Dragonglass to fill a ship, but Valyrian steel had been found in less abundance.

Not that it surprised Jon. Valyrian steel had always been rare and expensive. If there were hordes of it hidden in the smoking sea he was sure even the wisest of men would risk the stone men to get their hands on it.

"Dragonglass, yes," Tobho nodded before looking down at the Valyrian sword in his hands. "This, however, I have enough for another seven swords."

"I see." Jon frowned setting the black blade down on his desk. That wouldn't do. He had hoped Davos would have found enough for at least nineteen weapons. One for each Commander on the wall.

He could always send him back to search for more but Illyrio had been pissy for days after he paid for the excursion since Jon was using the merchant's money. Alienating his benefactor would not bode well for his future plans.

"I still need him." Just until he was ready to set sail for Westeros. Lucky for him his plan coincided with Illyrio's, or so the merchant would believe. So he would play the mans game until the time was right. Being the dutiful puppet Illyrio wished to command. Just until he had what he needed to rebuild and man the wall.

By the old god's luck, he had spent enough nights drinking with Tyrion to know Daenerys story. Of how she became the ruler of Essos with an army large enough to invade Westeros. He had to change some things in the story such as leaving the Dothraki out. While good fighters it seemed he had executed more riders than the Night King's army of wights killed.

They were everything he feared the Free Folk would be when he let them South of the Wall. Uncivilized and unwilling to listen. But the Free Folk had seen what was coming, and under his rule with Tormund's help, they learned that the raiding and savage life they led stayed beyond the Wall. There was no room for such things south of the Wall. The few that tried had been executed by his hand and served as a lesson. The North wouldn't tolerate raiding or woman stealing. The Free folk could continue such traditions inside their own clans but people of the Seven Kingdoms were not to be involved unless they wished to be.

The Dothraki did not want to end their traditions of slaving and raping. They didn't know the harshness of life beyond the Wall. The Seven kingdoms to them were just another raid to them, not a haven. The screaming riders were useful in a fight but he couldn't overlook the problems they caused after the battle was over.

"My lord?"

Right. Tobho was still waiting for him to give his orders.

Shaking his head Jon handed the Dragonglass sword back to the smith. "Work with the Dragonglass for now. Swords, daggers, and arrows. Use it all."

"And the Valyrian steel?"

"Melt it down and store it. Now's not the time to use it." He ordered and Tobho nodded before leaving the room.

Alone again Jon went back to his desk and pulled his list out getting back to work. "Edd at Deep Lake, Mance at Greyguard..."

Varys

Walking through the halls of the red keep the plump, bald, and effeminate eunuch moved quietly his soft slippers silencing his footsteps. The only way anyone would ever know he had passed through would be the lavender scent he left behind.

The Red Keep was emptier than it had been in nearly half a century. With King Rhaegar in the North attending the wedding of his new wife's brother. Along with him went the cooks and serving girls. The Kingsguard and the small council.

Varys didn't mind being left behind. He preferred it actually. The North was no place for a man from Essos. And it gave him time to think.

Illyrio, his friend from childhood was raising a Blackfyre that would one day invade Essos. Yet the King refused to heed his warning. Maelys was the last Blackfyre and Ser Barristan had slain him during the War of the Nine Penny Kings.

Yet his old friend had promised him that the boy he was housing was a Blackfyre. The grandson of Maelys himself. Varys didn't know who the boy's father or mother was, or if he held the same strength his grandfather was famous for. Jaehaerys was still young, that strength could show itself later in his life. But by then it would be too late. Rhaegar was a strong fighter, one of the best but even the King would fall at the feet of a man who could kill a horse with a single punch.

"Jaehaerys Blackfyre."

The bastard would one day throw the Seven Kingdoms into chaos. The leader of a third Blackfyre rebellion. And with Robert Baratheon, the lord of the Stormlands hatred for King Rhaegar the bastard would have a foothold in Westeros. His ships could land at Storms End and Robert would welcome them with a feast instead of steel.

With Roberts allegiance won the Westerlands, the North, the Vale, and the Riverlands would turn against the crown as well. Ned Stark had grown up with Robert, they were brothers in everything but blood. The future Warden of the North would not fight his brother and with Ned being married to Catelyn Tully the Riverlands would not fight against the North. Neither would the Vale. Jon Arryn had raised the boys, he wouldn't go to war against them when he could wage a war with them.

"That is more the half the Seven Kingdoms." Varys lips pressed together tightly as stopped his stride in the middle of the hall.

"The bastard sent ships to the smoking sea." A voice whispered from behind the stone. "He is stockpiling obsidian and Valyrian steel."

Varys frowned as he started walking once more. Valyrian steel? It was an extraordinary creation he would admit. Any sword that could cut through armor was dangerous in the hands of even an untrained farmer. An army of knights and experienced sell swords armed with weapons made from the fabled steel would cut across Westeros.

The master of whispers didn't worry of that news. The only thing in the ruins of Valyria was ash. Jaehaerys would never find enough of the ancient empires steel to arm an entire army. A handful of swords, at most, enough for his own Kingsguard and the best knights he could gather to serve him.

Even still, it was too risky to let him live.

He stopped again next to a Targaryen Banner. He did this for his king.

"Send a message to Pentos. I will make Illyrio Master of coin if he kills the boy." He whispered to the wall.

Illyrio Mopatis

Striding through the halls of his home Illyrio smiled displaying his grotesque yellow teeth. Not that any of the servants walking with him would say anything. They still feared his wrath despite young Jaehaerys new laws forbidding striking the servants.

"Don't let that touch the floor." He snapped as the golden palanquin nearly touched the ground.

The servants stood straighter obeying the orders but too quickly causing the consignment of goods inside to shake.

Watching the eggs move as if they were hatching Illyrio stared at the servants. He would punish them later. They were just lucky the feathered pillows kept the eggs from knocking together and chipping.

"Their heads will roll if one of those eggs so much as gets a scratch." He thought viciously as he led the way towards Jaehaerys room.

He had paid too much for the relics for them to be broken by incompetent fools.

Jon Snow II

"My Lord,"

Another knock came from the door and Jon shoved his now completed list into his desk. "Come in!"

The door opened and he had to bite his tongue from cursing as Illyrio walked in followed by two men carrying a miniature paladin.

"Dragon eggs." Jon's eyes grew wide as three eggs, Daenerys eggs were brought into the room. The Mother of Dragons had told him she received her children as wedding gifts from Illyrio who believed them to be fossilized. That no one thought they would hatch, no one even though they could hatch, until they did.

"Jaehaery's," Illyrio bowed his head. "Dragon's eggs, from the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai. The eons have turned them to stone, yet still, they burn bright with beauty. A gift, for the only Targaryen worthy of them."

"The only Targaryen you could get your hands on," Jon said to himself as he stood from his desk. The only thing Illyrio found him worthy of being was a puppet he could make dance.

Walking closer to the eggs he reached for them.

The first, Rhaegal's egg, was a deep green, with burnished bronze flecks. The second, Viserion, pale cream streaked with gold. And the last, holding Drogon, was black as the midnight sea, yet alive with scarlet ripples and swirls.

And they were huge. Compared to his child body the eggs were bigger than his head.

"I should change their names." He thought as he lifted Drogon's egg into his hands. It would the sensible thing to do. Viserion and Drogon were fine but Rhaegal was too similar to Rhaegar, they were practically the same name. People would question why he would name his dragon after the man he was supposed to dethrone.

But he wouldn't. These were supposed to be Daenery's dragons. He was stealing them from her. The least he could do was give them the names she chose.

"Jaehaerys?"

"Build a pyre in the courtyard. Large enough to fit all three eggs."

Illyrio looked aghast and angry. "You would burn my gifts?"

"No," Jon shook his head. "I'm going to hatch them."

Setting Drogons egg back onto the pillow next to his brothers he looked up at Illyrio who had yet to move.

"You can't order a pyre to be built from here," Jon said and the merchant startled.

"O...Of course." Walking from the Illyrio was halfway down the hall when Jon shouted to him.

"And bring three goats!" Jon had heard the story of how Daenery's dragons hatched from Jorah.

It was a terrible tale. Her husband dead and the witch responsible for his death tied to a stake in the middle of the pyre. Daenerys, lost in grief walked into the flames to die along with her husband and son. But she didn't. When the fire burned out, in the center of a field of ash Daenerys sat with naked, her clothes burned from her body clutching three baby dragons.

He was hoping the ritual to hatch them was the House words of the Targaryen's words. 'Fire and blood'.

And praying that animal blood would suffice for he was not going to burn anyone alive in hopes of hatching the dragons.

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