The group that departed Winterfell separated into two when they arrived on the Kingsroad. One group was on their way to Castle Black, Tyrion Lannister their guest. The other group would return to King's Landing without stopping at any castles on the way. The King did not want to waste any more time than he already wasted on the Royal Progress. Of course, the King said it in private to his new Hand and his eldest. Robert Baratheon was rash, but he was not plain stupid to say that out loud.

The goodbyes were brief since Lord Stark and Jon had been the only two to say their goodbyes to Benjen Stark, their family member who was a ranger for the Night's Watch. After that, the King's Landing Group only stopped to rest the nights, the most notable one being Moat Cailin.

Moat Cailin was an ancient stronghold of the First Men on the northern edge of the great swamp known as the Neck. It was less than twenty miles from the headwaters of the Fever River. It was one of the North's most important strongholds. Now much of it was in ruins.

It once had twenty towers, a wooden keep, and a great basalt curtain wall as high as that of Winterfell's. Today only great blocks of black basalt lay scattered about, half sunk in the ground where the wall once stood, and the keep rotted away. The three towers that stood commanded the causeway, covered in green moss and white ghostskin. The Children's Tower, named for the Children of the Forest and not human children, was tall and slender. It had only half of the crenelations of its crown. The Gatehouse Tower was the largest and was squat and wide. It was the only tower which still stood straight, even retaining some of the walls around it, although a tree grew through its northern side. The tower's hall of dark stone was spotted with lichen and had a high, drafty ceiling. Within the hall was a massive carved table, also of stone. The Drunkard's Tower was so named due to its great lean. It stood where the south and west walls once met.

The King took the Gatehouse Tower, while the Hand took the Children's Tower. The Queen refused to set foot in the towers and instead had a tent set for her outside it. Orys took the Drunkard Tower, keeping Jon and his uncle Jaime with him. Joffrey did not want to associate with a bastard, and Tommen was told no by their mother. A similar answer came from Lord Stark when Arya wanted to stay with her brother. Lord Stark had yet to speak to Orys in anything but respectful yesses and hums of agreement.

"Your Father should think about restoring this place. It is quite a castle to have" Jaime stated, the moonlight streaking through the window and on his face.

"Father has plans on restoring a few castles and possibly buying the New Gift back from the Watch to make a castle there. He is waiting for Winter to pass before he does any of it" Jon answered.

"If he plans to do any of it, he should do so sooner rather than later. Who knows when Winter will come and how long it will stay" Orys commented. "This particular castle would be an asset to the North. Maybe you'll be Lord of it."

Jon said nothing, but Orys knew that the boy was thinking about it. Soon they had fallen asleep, Jon being the first one and Orys being the last. He wouldn't say it was the most comfortable of sleeping arrangements, but it would do for one night. But then he was woken up in the middle of the night by sharp stabbing pain on his forehead.

Orys woke with a pained gasp. He looked around in panic, touching the part of his forehead where it hurt. It felt wet, and when he pulled his hand back he saw blood in the dim light of the moon.

"Orys!" a familiar cry had him look to the window. The raven sat there, beady eyes pinned at him. The bird had been acting normally all through their journey here. It would fly, and then come back. Where it flew to Orys had no idea.

"Why did you do that?" he hissed at the bird, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. The bird let out a deep caw, turned on the window frame and took flight. Orys rushed to the window and watched the bird fly towards the Children's Tower.

It was an odd sensation he felt when he decided to follow the bird. He was not sure why he was doing that, but he felt like he should. Like a hand pulling him along by a cold chain around his neck.

Men were asleep, and those that were awake to guard the King and his retinue, bowed to the Prince as he passed them, towards the Children's Tower where the hand and his family were sleeping for the night.

The ravens stood on the ground outside the doors to the tower, waiting for the Prince from the looks of it. Because once the Prince had arrived, it took flight again, to the woods behind the tower. Orys followed it there as well, climbing over the broken-down wall and jumping over it. Immediately he splashed onto mud, his feet sinking to his ankle in it. He pulled his feet out of the mud and drew his sword. Lizardlions were native to these parts of the land, and Orys was not going to be their food any time soon.

The raven waited on the branches, and every time Orys got close it flew deeper into the woods. Walking in the marshlands was a nightmare for the Prince, every step taking more effort than normal. His feet sank every time and the smell did not help much. The raven did not seem to consider that, going deeper and deeper until it perched itself on the branch of a very familiar tree.

The tree's leaves were red as blood, the body white as bone. The branches were large and spread around like spiderweb.

"A Weirwood Tree?" Orys muttered in confusion. The face carved on the tree was an odd one, half happy and the other sad. Orys approached it, sheathing his blade. The closer he got the more details he noticed about the tree, the crow's feet around its eyes. The wrinkles around its smile. There was a gentle wind blowing and the sweet smell of honey was in the air. Orys reached out and touched the tree's face.

"Orys wake up!"

The Prince woke with a start, disoriented and confused.

"What happened to the trees?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes to get rid of the itchiness.

"What trees?" Jaime asked. "What kind of a dream were you having?"

"I-" the boy frowned. All of that was a dream? He touched his forehead and did not find any signs of there ever being any injuries. He looked at the window and saw his raven sitting on the frame and scratching itself with its sharp talons. "A weird one" he finally answered. It seemed enough for his uncle, who shrugged.

"Get ready quick. Your father wants to leave as soon as possible" The Kingsguard tied his belt and left. It was just Orys in the room, still trying to process what he dreamt. It felt too real to be a dream.

He shook the thought away and stood. A soft thud caught his attention and he looked down. There was a seed at his feet, large as an acorn and white as bone.

The winds were not too gentle yet not too hard, cool and comforting. The skies had a good covering of clouds, but not too dark hinting towards a downpour. It was a good day. The royal party had stopped by the trident for some well-deserved rest. The King and Lord Stark had separated from the group, to have lunch on their own and then be off reminiscing about the past. Orys thought that was what the duo would do, a duo of old friends who had fought a war side by side.

"What do you think of Sansa?" Myrcella asked, dabbing her lips with a small piece of cloth she stitched herself.

"She's nice, I suppose" Orys answered, throwing a piece of bacon into his mouth. "I haven't gotten to know her well enough yet."

"Maybe you should. You'll be marrying her" the girl giggled, making her brother roll his eyes. "Unless there's someone else that you like?"

"Not really" he hummed, noting the look of disappointment in his sister's eyes. "Why are you so curious about it?"

"Because I want you to be happy!" the girl exclaimed. "Is that a bad thing?"

"No, I guess not" he chuckled.

"Orys, you should go. Talk to your betrothed and get to know her better" their mother spoke. She had been silent the entire time, and her mood was not the best. Orys wasn't sure what was troubling her, and he knew better than to ask. His mother was not the kind of woman to share her worries with him, because she didn't want to worry him.

Orys drank the wine poured for him, cleaning his throat in the process. He wiped his hands on a piece of cloth and dabbed his lips on it before leaving with a small wave to his family. Outside the tent, he saw the men at ease, eating and drinking and storytelling. He saw Jon mingle with a few Baratheon men at arms, Jaime not too far from him. The man was not engaging in conversation, only watching. Orys ignored them and went to find the person his mother wanted him to find. He found her with her Direwolf, speaking to Ser Ilyn Payne. Though he was certain not much talking was going on. By the time he reached her, Sandor Clegane was with her.

"My Lady" the Prince greeted the young girl. Sansa turned to him, her nervous expression being replaced by a happier one. "Would you care to join me for a walk?"

The girl smiled, dropping to her knees and gently scratching the wolf behind the ear. "Stay Lady," she said tenderly.

"She can come along" Orys offered.

"My Prince, I wouldn't want to cause you any trouble" the girl countered, just as gently.

"No trouble at all. She is your companion yes?" the girl nodded, "Then she can come along" the Prince added.

The Direwolf Lady joined Orys and Sansa on their walk. Sansa was two years his younger, but taller than her age. She would grow taller Orys was certain, and if her mother was any indication she would fill out nicely.

"The man, the one with no hair, he wouldn't speak to me," Sansa said after a moment of walking silently. "I hope I had not offended him."

"He wasn't offended, my Lady. He cannot simply speak" Orys explained.

"Oh, so he's mute" Sansa mumbled.

"He wasn't. The Mad King pulled his tongue out with hot pincers a long time ago" Orys corrected her, much to her horror.

"But why?!"

"He was the Mad King, my Lady. Ser Ilyn was punished for saying something Aerys Targaryen did not like. It was also Ser Ilyn's fault for saying such a thing where the King's ear could reach. He is the royal executioner now."

"O- oh. My father usually does the executions himself" the girl spoke, and immediately her face reddened, eyes growing wide with alarm. "My Prince I did not mean-"

"Think nothing of it, my Lady" Orys chuckled. "You've seen my father, he isn't in a state to perform executions himself. Not that he's done it before either. He only lifts his weapon for combat, he told me once. So he has Ser Ilyn for that. Maybe I'll adopt the Northern brand of justice when I'm King."

The two were silent for a while, their walk leading them to the bank of the Trident, the legendary river where Robert Baratheon slew Rhaegar Targaryen.

"My Prince, I wanted to ask something" Sansa spoke.

"You are permitted to do so" Orys replied.

"Why did you bring Jon along?"

He stopped for a moment when she asked, and Sansa stopped a few steps ahead. She turned and a look of panic overtook her facial features. He raised a hand to calm her. "I see potential in him to be better than what he was in Winterfell. And I want people with potential like his to serve me."

"But he's a bastard," the girl said bluntly, unamused by what she heard.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Orys went to his knees, scratching Lady behind both her ears with a hand each. The Direwolves terrified his mother and two brothers, but he liked them. They were loyal to their masters, and protective as well, and they seemed to like him too. Myrcella was afraid of them at first, that was until Ghost had nudged her hand and licked her face when she hugged him. "It was not Jon's fault that he was born as he was. If you are to blame anyone for that sin, blame your father and the woman who birthed Jon. They were the ones to do it."

"But he is the result of a sin. Doesn't that make him bad as well?"

"Nobody is born terrible, Sansa. It's the experiences of life that change them. Jon Arryn taught me that lesson, a lesson I'm passing on to you."

Sansa went to say something, but the clunking sound of wood on wood interrupted her. Orys got back to his feet and curiously walked towards the source of the sound. He found two boys playing with wooden swords.

"Arya" he heard Sansa hiss and realized that one of the boys was not a boy at all but the younger daughter of Lord Stark.

"What is going on here?" Orys asked, loud and bold. Both Arya and the other boy stopped, the latter dropping his wooden sword. "Where did you two get those?"

"These are mine," Arya said defensively. "We were just playing."

"I- I- my Prince she asked me to play!" the boy exclaimed, a look of hurt appearing on Arya's face from how easily the boy threw her out.

"I see. And you are?"

"Mycah, my Prince."

"He's the butcher's boy" Arya explained.

"And you were playing at what? Being knights?"

"Yes" Arya puffed her chest out in pride, but the butcher's boy had his head hung.

"Mycah" Orys called and the boy stiffened. "Do you want to be a knight?"

"My Prince I-"

"Answer me honestly, boy."

"I- I- I do" the boy stuttered out, his head not lifting.

"I see" Orys mused for a bit. "Once we return to King's Landing, report to the barracks and they will start your training. If your family has anything to say against it, you come to me and I'll talk to them. Understood?"

The boy was too stunned to speak, stumbling on his feet when Arya elbowed him in the ribs. She stuttered out a thank you and rushed off. The three that remained watched him go, Arya's wolf Nymeria walking up to Orys and licking his hand. He gently rubbed her head.

"Arya, you should choose wisely when you make friends. See how quickly he pushed the blame onto you?" the Prince asked.

"Was it true? What you say?" the girl asked instead.

"About what?" the Prince asked.

"That you'd let Mycah train to be a Knight."

"Arya!" exclaimed her sister, "the boy just betrayed you and you still care?!"

Arya did not answer Sansa, instead looking Orys in the eyes. The Prince only smiled and ruffled her hair in response.

"You have a good heart, Arya Stark. Don't let the world change it."