A/N: Well guys, my exam was a 91 out of 100 so I'm happy. And I got another med school interview, so things are looking good for me :D

Ecstatic from all the response to this. Be sure to keep it up! Follow and comment.

Chapter 4: Return to Winterfell

The lone wolf dies.

The pack survives.

Such went the saying passed on generation after generation of Starks since the time of Brandon the Builder. Lord Eddard Stark taught it to his children just as zealously as Queen Lyanna Targaryen did to hers, and the brood of Starks took it largely to head. A close knit pack, one that loved each other and shared what was called the 'wolfsblood.'

All but Joanna Stark.

No, she loved her brothers and sisters, such would be slanderous to say differently. She loved her mother and her father, while absolutely adoring her older sister Sansa even though she possessed the red coloring of the Tullys - her eyes were like papa's, so such was tolerable.

But Joanna never felt like a Stark. Rather, she was a Lannister. A lioness through and through just like her mama, the beautiful Lady Cersei. Young though she was, Joanna wasn't ignorant of who Cersei had been before becoming Lady of Winterfell. The Light of the West. The most beautiful and eligible maiden at court, whom even could've been the bride of her uncle Rhaegar had her papa not stolen her heart. Joanna sighed at the romance of it all.

Every dream of hers found Joanna going south. Becoming what her mother was initially groomed to be. A respected wife and mother, someone to be feared and envied in court. Lover of courtly things and fine manners, all were but a means to an end for her. Joanna never delighted in flights of fancy - merely just fancy.

It was her element as much as it was for her mama - as Cersei exchanged the land of her birth for the court of another, so too did Joanna resolve to do the same.

Hearing a knock at her bedchamber door, she straightened her hair where it had fanned out from her head as she laid down. "Come in."

Joanna expected her mother, but instead it was her other favorite person. "I bring treats." Milky grey eyes nevertheless filled with a warmth that was lacking in his father - Joanna met him once before and didn't care for him - Domeric Bolton carried a mug of fresh milk and a plate of lemon cake. They were expensive, but Sansa loved them… as did Joanna. "Had to sneak it past the cooks."

Beaming at Domeric, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "You're sweet, my dashing Florian the Fool." He blushed awkwardly, but sat beside her on the bed as she quickly tore into the delectable treat. "Mmmm… this is so good."

"We all had them at dinner… except me. I saved my piece for you."

She smiled gratefully. "I already called you sweet, Dom." The Starks had been wary at first of him - they knew the history between their houses - but with how kind and noble he was, they warmed up to Domeric quickly.

He was essentially a Stark to them, while the other ward Theon was their friend most of the time yet still an outsider.

But true to form, the quiet Bolton shook his head. "You wouldn't have needed to be here had you not insulted your brother."

Joanna knew exactly who he meant. "Half-brother."

"Still your blood, just like Sansa is."

"Sansa is one of us, while Rickard… he's a Fish. Never calls mother 'mother' like Sansa."

Domeric rested a hand on hers, calming her. "I like Rickard… he's a loyal son to Lord Stark and never causes trouble. Why do you hate him so?"

The young lioness turned up her head in a haughty manner, crossing her arms. But Domeric's stare wore her down and she groaned. "I don't hate him… he's my blood as you said, but…"

"But?"

"He feels… like Theon."

Blinking, Domeric was confused. "What do you mean?"

It was hard to explain, especially for someone so young. "He feels… like a stranger. Not part of the pack."

"Perhaps if you let him in he would be?"

"If he wasn't so much of a fish, I would." Her companion sighed and let Joanna devour the rest of the lemon cake and drink the milk.

It was for the best, because just as she tucked the dirty utensils away, her father burst in. "Joanna."

She rose, running to hug him. "Papa. I love you."

Though he had been greatly angry before, Ned melted as Cersei's mini-me embraced him. He reciprocated, kissing the crown of her head. "I love you too, my darling lioness." Smiling widely, it was clear he had a surprise to say. "Your punishment is rescinded, for today is too happy an occasion."

"What is going on, Lord Stark?" asked Domeric.

"The lion cubs have been born."

Joanna's eyes widened. "Really?!" She began jumping for joy, squealing shrilly. As Lann matured into a mighty beast, their grandfather for Arya's nameday sent a lioness to Winterfell. Almost immediately Cersei went to work trying to breed them, and now she succeeded. "Can I see them, can I see them!"

Ned laughed and pinched her cheek. "Of course you can!" Joanna squealed again and raced out of the chamber.

It was like something out of a dream, the beautiful cubs. Their mother, Huntress - Sansa had named her - was laying on her side against that of Lann. His busy mane frizzled as he yawned. Suckling from Huntress' teats were three cubs. "My lion, my lion," Arya kept chanting, jumping up and down.

"Calm down, my sweet wolf," Cersei chuckled. "One for you, your sister, and your twin." Carrying little Tytos, it was clear that the youngest of the Stark brood were much too little to raise lion cubs.

"You take care of them, raise them, love them," Ned commanded, but warmly. "These beasts are in your hands, children."

Joanna looked confused for a moment. "Robb?"

Her eldest brother chuckled. "I'm a wolf, not a lion." He rubbed Frost's fur alongside Sansa, their father's fully grown direwolf loving the attention.

Rickard was nowhere in sight. Perfect. "This one is mine." She crouched next to a yawning, sleeping girl cub. "You're a graceful queen, you are." Queen? A perfect name. "You're my best friend, Queen. My Queen will eat fish." The last was but a whisper, no one but her and the old gods listening.

"So, have you been to the North, Princess?"

Much unlike her, Rhaenys giggled. "Once or twice… when I was but a little girl with my muna to get my blessing in front of the weirwood, then for a year's fostering with Lord Stark."

Torrhen Karstark blinked. "Gods, that was silly of me to assume." He chuckled. "No wonder you're not shivering in the cold."

But Rhaenys cast him fluttering eyes. "Such was still noble of you to give me your cloak." She inhaled, sighing rather exaggeratedly. "Smells so wonderful, like a man." Torrhen puffed up proudly at that, walking with a swagger as Rhaenys inched her hand into his arm.

"Ugh," snorted Asha Greyjoy, watching from the outer courtyard of New Castle as the two strolled along the battlements. "That woman is the farthest from a giggling maiden that I've known a woman to be." Shaking her head, she kicked at a clump of snow. "And I thought walking outside would be a relief from hearing the fat merman brothers kiss up to your brother."

Daenerys wrinkled her nose in confusion. "What could she possibly want to do with him?"

Asha raised her brow. "You're japing, right?"

The younger Princess - dressed in a pure white cloak and dress that complimented her silver hair - blushed. "Well, I know what they could do, but Rhaenys will not want to give up her maidenhead. She's told me that." I won't give it up either… not for just anyone.

Laughing, Asha clapped Dany's back. "Oh, young dragon, there are so many things one can do for pleasure not involving actual fucking."

"And have you done these?"

She got a coy smile in return. "Mayhaps… unlike my idiot brother I don't kiss and tell."

Dany peered at her. "I thought you were happy to see Theon again." Dany didn't really like him but he was nice enough. They just didn't click, the boy more arrogant than a person of his stature ought to be.

"Just cause he's an idiot doesn't mean I don't like to see him. I mean, Allyria's friends with Willa Tyrell and she's a bit of a ditz." Kicking another clump of snow, Asha groaned. "Gods, is there nothing to do in this cursed icebox of a city?!"

Shrugging, Dany played with the strap of her coat. "We could see the dragons." Her eyes lit up at the thought - Daenerys loved her dragon Syrax and she her.

As for Asha… "Hmmm, sit around like a jackass while you're the only one who gets to interact with her, not likely."

"Suit yourself." Dany glided towards the flat parade ground between the keep and the Manderly private docks.

Further giggling from afar caught Asha's attention. "Mmmm, do all Northmen kiss so well?"

"Wait up!"

The royal flotilla had reached White Harbor without incident, the King and Queens allowing themselves a few days in the hospitality of Lord Wylis Manderly - plus the settling of some affairs in the vein of Queen Alysanne Targaryen's famous journey - before they headed off to Winterfell. Rhaegar, Lyanna, Elia, and Rhaella were all quite busy, as was Tywin, so the children largely had the roam of the place. "You are as dear to me as my own children. What's mine is yours," Lord Wylis proclaimed. Everyone took advantage, but only to the proper extent.

Their elders raised them right.

Guards bowing to her, Daenerys' smile was wide as she entered the parade ground… only for it to falter when noticing she wasn't alone there. "Jon…"

"Jon?" Asha emerged, seeing the aforementioned Crown Prince and his - in her opinion, since the growth spurt and improving health wore on him quite well - far more handsome older brother Aegon leaning against the snouts of their dragons. Speaking to two young ladies, one Rhaenys' age and the other Aegon's. "The Manderly sisters, Wynafryd and Wylla."

Narrowing her eyes, Dany regarded them. Wynafryd's hair was dark and she seemed enamoured with Aegon. No trouble there. But Wylla had dirty blonde locks tied into a simple braid and she laughed merrily at something Jon said. A burning jealousy emerged inside the Princess. This will not do at all.

"Uh oh, I know that look. Gonna call Sandor or Syrax?"

"Syrax. She'll tear that girl limb from limb!" Dany truly didn't know what brought this on… just that she didn't want that whore anywhere close to Jon. He's my nephew! My King and I his Queen! As of yet, such was still an innocent thought.

Asha rolled her eyes. Drowned god help me with these Targaryens… "Dany, there's an easier way." The Princess raised her brow and bid her to continue.

"How high have you flown on him?" asked Wylla Manderly with awe in her voice.

Baelon, grinning, pointed to the clouds. "See those? I was just above those only this morning." He pointed to Aegon. "Him too, just behind me."

"Thank you, valonqar. I can recount my own exploits." But when Wynafryd's impressed smile raked over him, Egg puffed up with a smirk of his own. "Tessarion and I have flown to Dorne and back."

A sigh from Wylla. "I would love to see Dorne. Perhaps the Conqueror Reborn could take me." Jon's body language didn't say no to the idea.

But before he could speak, Daenerys strode in and hugged her nephew close. "Hi Jon." She kissed his cheek. "Hi, Egg."

"Hey, aunt."

"Ladies Manderly," she greeted them, far less warmly. "Meet the dragons?"

"Aye, we have," boasted Wylla, not liking how Dany was so close to Baelon. "He's taking me to Dorne."

Dany wanted to scream, but didn't. "Really?"

"Just a thought," hs shrugged. "Would you like to touch them?"

At this, the ladies hesitated. Only seeing how large and imposing the two beasts were. "Hmmm… I don't know…"

"Mayhaps a smaller dragon would be more to the liking of Lady Wylla and Lady Wynafryd?" Dany asked Jon with an innocent smile, perfectly masking her ill intentions.

Both rather youthful and innocent themselves, the two ladies nodded vociferously. "It is just that we are not as used to magnificent creatures," said the older Wynafryd, nervously playing with the oaken hair styled in a simple braid. "We are not blood of old Valyria as yourself, Prince Aegon, or Princess Daenerys."

Glancing at his brother, Jon shrugged. "Well, I can see why a dragon wouldn't manifest warmth and magnificence innately with those not of Valyrian blood."

"Correct, the instinct must be vastly different, as if a non-northman came into contact with a direwolf for the first time." He raised a brow at Daenerys, older than Jon and far less… clueless with how women operated - likely from all the time he spent with his Uncle Oberyn on matters not having to do with training or listening to his adventure stories. His cleaned up adventure stories rather. "So which dragon would you think is proper, aunt Dany?"

She pretended to think. "Perhaps Goldenwing? He's quite tame."

But Baelon shook his head. "Nah, Cella's riding her." His face lit up. "How about Syrax? She's very calm and friendly."

"She's named after the goddess of beauty, no?" Aegon added, stating a fact. Curious as to what Daenerys had planned.

Dany beamed. "Alright then." She gave the glittering smile to the two Manderly girls. "You'll love her. She's the sweetest dragon in the world." Behind the relieved looks of the girls, Asha rolled her eyes rather obviously. Syrax was sweet, but she was also very loyal to Daenerys.

Muna, want me to rip these wretches apart?

The Princess cast a look towards where she looked to sleep soundly. No, just scare them. No actual harm.

You're no fun.

Giggling, Daenerys whistled. "Come Syrax. Come to muna."

Ambling over, her feet and wing-claws pounding on the snow-covered stone, soon Syrax's hot breath bathed all six of them. Both Valyrax and Tessarion regarded her with a disinterested curiosity - as if they wanted it over with. Dany's gentle touch on her scales made the dragon growl. "Is… is that good?" asked Wylla.

"Oh yes, that's her purring," Baelon commented, patting his own mount. "They're big creatures, so what is soft to them is not soft to others."

"Right…" Wynafryd was not convinced, eyes locking with Egg's. He shrugged.

Daenerys pressing a kiss to the warm, cream scales, gave Wylla yet another innocent smile. "Want to pet her?"

She gulped. "Can I?"

"Of course, Syrax is very gentle as my nephew said." Dany's look for Jon was pure warmth, one Jon answered with a grin of his own.

Trembling, Wylla approached Syrax with her hand raised. Dany watched without expression. Wait… Almost there. Wait… Wylla was just about to brush her fingertips on the scales. Now.

In an instant the pattern of calm changed to a fierce snarl as Syrax roared. Wylla pitched back as an overwhelming heat and slimy spittle covered her. She herself screamed, heart pounding as she lost her footing and fell on her ass. Shaking with terror.

Daenerys fought a giggle as she looked to calm her down. "I'm so dreadfully sorry. Syrax never acts like that. Do you girl?" She snorted, amber eyes glaring menacingly at Wylla.

Jon was concerned, and helped pull the still shaking girl up. "Are you alright?"

"Yes… yes… not really… I should go inside." Stumbling all the way, the poor girl raced for the keep.

"She'll be fine I think… by dinner at least." Wynafryd bowed to Daenerys and Baelon. "Thank you for introducing us to your mounts. Would you like to escort me back to the keep, Prince Aegon?"

Aegon smiled. "I would be honored." Arm in arm, they made their way back after Wylla.

Asha shook her head. That boy is gonna get eaten alive. Any girl that coupled with him who wanted to could manipulate him into his grave - unless it was someone he could trust until he was more secure in himself.

As for Jon… "What was that?" He approached Syrax. "Bad girl. You do not do that to guests."

Syrax whined in distress. No, you're a good girl. Plenty of lamb and cow for you later. That mollified her dragon. "What's done is done, Jon." She melded herself to his side. "I'm famished, want to go find something to eat in the town?"

Baelon… he couldn't say no to Dany. "Sure. Would love to." Now, Dany could smile without worry.

"The dragons come! The dragons come!" Arya Stark nuzzled little Nova, the she-cub mewling and trying to swipe at her with little paws. "Hear Nova. Dragons come." The little girl was so excited.

She had grown up on stories of the dragons, of her family in the south that she had never seen. Her beautiful, fierce Aunt Lya, mother of her cousins Baelon, Rhaenys, Aegon… gods, she couldn't wait to meet all of them.

"Arya! Come to the courtyard!" she heard her mother call. Kissing Nova on the head - she mewled again and stared expectantly at her mistress before a servant scooped her up to take to her own parents - Arya dashed out of her bedchamber and down the stairs.

The first she ran into was Sansa, leaning against the wall with a hand over her heart. "Come on, Sansa! Dragons!"

Staring down at Arya, Sansa blinked once. "Aye, dragons." My two dragons. Her beloved playmates, Jon and Dany. "Follow me then. It's gonna be a mess out there."

Sansa's prediction bore accuracy. Servants and guards dashed about, getting yelled at by Venon Poole and Rodrik Cassel on various matters or another. Did they position fresh carcases outside the walls. Did they sweep the newly paved cobblestone courtyard one last time. Did they wear clothes not covered in grime and dirt. The latter was easy enough to discover and caused many a servant to be screamed at.

But none could top the nervous shouting of Cersei Stark. "You, get over there! Put your helmets on!" Those in Winterfell loved her, so forgave her anger as but a desire for perfection.

Tywin Lannister would arrive, and since it was time to present his newest grandson and possible heir - with Tommen being a sweet lad who couldn't hurt a mouse, all speculation rested with either young Bran or the newborn Tytos to assume the Lannister name - then her perfectionist attitude was sympathized by the household. Tywin had been to Winterfell before and each time he had found fault even when Cersei was at her most exceptional.

Going along with her exasperation was the least they could do for their beloved Lady. The Lioness of the North, golden and beautiful.

Thankfully for her sanity and Arya's expectation - all the Starks lined up at the van of the entire household, Arya sandwiched between Sansa and her twin Tommen - a roar filled the air. Many roars rather. She didn't have to wait long before her eager eyes caught a glimpse of a massive green dragon, for there was nothing else that it could've been. Behind was a golden one, and then a black one, cream one, orange, purple, grey, gold and purple… Eight great beasts, all massive though at various variations of such a word. Circling Winterfell while roaring and hooting. Even those that had seen dragons before gaped at so many… no more than Arya beamed.

All dragons but one, a blue stripeling, held riders. Guiding them down slowly towards the fields outside the walls. Not even the large outer courtyard could hold all of them.

A trumpet drove those at the gatehouse to scramble. "The royal party arrives!" Up came the portcullis and open groaned the thick gates… immediately leading a large direwolf bounding inside with a frantic speed.

Howling, Frost bolted from where she waited by Ned's side, running to her brother Spirit and crashing together in a flurry of paw swipes, licks, neck nuzzles, and rolling around. It made even the hardest person in Winterfell smile. A perfect herald to the arrival of the Targaryens.

At the van of the Targaryen column was Queen Lyanna, magnificent in her riding dress and with sword at her side. Arya gaped. I look just like her… I wanna be her! Sword at her side and riding proudly. Others were seen, her uncle Benjen, aunt Dacey, uncle Arthur… a special smile was reserved for her grandfather - a smile that was returned when Tywin met eyes with her.

Soon though the dragons landed and their riders marched into the keep. The tall Rhaegar Targaryen - Arya's uncle Rhaegar - as kingly as one could be. Her line of cousins, a mix of silver and black… and among them was the most stunning man she'd ever seen. Someone out of a book of stories, what she'd always thought a god looked like. Much like her uncle Rhaegar, but with slightly darker skin.

Arya was transfixed in her youthful mind. In awe.

Beside her, Sansa was practically bouncing on her heels. There was Jon… and Daenerys. Gods, they had grown so much. She felt a little… flutter in her heart and… elsewhere in her body. Something strange but not unpleasant. Jon's growing build and rugged features shorn of youthful softness, Dany's continued softness joined by a budding figure slender in the right places and full in others. Both with the Targaryen beauty, albeit Jon's merged with that of the Starks. Oh, did the feeling burn through Sansa and it was beginning to worry her… especially when they met her gaze, and the smile of Jon paled with Dany's intense stare and grin.

She seemed to have the same look. The same flutter.

"Ned!" boomed Rhaegar, wrapping his goodbrother in a hug as he lifted him from the ground. Behind, those in the wheelhouses had departed, led by Queen Elia and Arya's aunt Ashara. Many other cousins, young like her. "You old dolt, a father again?!"

"You are quite familiar with how that goes, goodbrother," Ned replied as Rhaegar set him down, both of them laughing just as Lyanna and Elia now greeted him. Arya noticed Sansa embroiled in a tight hug with Prince Baelon and Princess Daenerys, while Robb greeted his cousin Rhaenys… and seemed pretty much tongue tied at a brown-haired, slender woman that accompanied the Princess.

And then she was faced with the god among boys. "Hi there. You must be my cousin Arya."

Arya trembled, not knowing what to say for once. "You… you ride dragon?"

He laughed merrily. "Aye, that big girl right there." He pointed up to the purple dragon circling the place. "That's Tessarion, my pride and joy. I'm your cousin Aegon, by the way, but you can call me Egg."

"Egg?" Arya giggled. "That's funny. You're funny."

Aegon pinched her cheek. "I've heard a lot about you, and will want to see it for myself." He ruffled her hair and then went towards Sansa, his brother, and aunt. Arya was left gobsmacked and smiling.

Then, she was lifted into familiar arms. "Dearest granddaughter."

She giggled. "Grandfather!" Tywin Lannister was feared by all… except his granddaughter. Like a proud lion, she was the cub that could climb all over him without being harmed in the least. "Come meet Nova!"

"Your lioness? I hope you take care of her."

"I do! I do!"

"Lord Tywin." It was Queen Lyanna, walking ahead of Cersei. "Come meet your new grandson."

Still holding Arya, Tywin looked over the babe in Cersei's arms. "Name?"

Cersei smirked. "Tytos Stark."

For the life of her, Arya didn't know why her silly grandfather looked like he drank curdled milk.

Every letter, every raven… every story of those that traveled south, all prepared Sansa Stark for the majesty of Prince Baelon Targaryen, the youngest knight in all of Westeros. But no one could truly relay what she now watched as she sat entranced in her chambers. Night had fallen, dinner had been had, and Jon and Daenerys promptly snuck three training swords into the residential wing of Winterfell proper and decamped in Sansa's bedchamber, eagerly invited by the grey-eyed redhead.

And here she was, witness to the marvel of the Crown Prince showing off the skills that won him the squire's melee. Fierce slashes, intricate swings, firm stance with muscles rippling, it was a wonder Sansa's jaws weren't open and staring at him as she oft saw her mama stare at papa. She didn't quite know why they did so yet, but it was… clearly welcome from the both of them.

There was no man she wished to welcome more than Jon.

"Isn't he magnificent?" asked Daenerys, seated next to Sansa.

Sansa turned to agree only to see her closest female companion in her element as well. Flushed and panting from showing off her skills, honed by Queen Lyanna herself, she nevertheless looked absolutely radiant with the beauty all Targaryens were known for.

Such beauty left Sansa equally as awe with her as with Baelon. So therefore she could only nod.

Both were wonderful fighters at their young age, better than many of the household guards that Sansa would oft see train in the Winterfell courtyard. A warrior King and Queen in the making, Aegon and Visenya reborn. What does that make me? She was Rhaenys in their games, but what comparison was that? She knew how to sew and ride and dance and deploy a biting wit… but could she fight?

No, she was defenseless compared to them, and watching both Jon and Dany show off made her aware of this. Mayhaps I need to find a way to defend myself...

Finally dropping the swords upon the rather large bed, Jon collapsed into a chair, exhausted. "How was that?"

Brought out of her haze, Sansa began clapping with a smile. "Bravo, Ser Baelon, the Dragonknight Reborn!"

"No, he's the Conquerer Reborn!" Dany insisted, clapping as well. "He shan't take any vow, for I shall be his Queen."

"Nonsense, both of you shall be my Queens," laughed Jon, remembering the games of their past. Dany giggled in response, while Sansa's look was… contemplative. He knew not why, but didn't really care at the moment. "My kepa and others before me may have been great, but there is a reason I am the Conqueror Reborn." He clasped his hand over his chest. "I swear to both of you that no one has been more worthy for the Iron Throne, my throne, than me."

Both girls sighed. "Oh, Jon…" If anyone believed in him, it was them.

The door, not latched shut but rather with a tiny crack of an opening, was pushed open as Sprinter trundled in. Her head drooped and was in a slow gait, hindered by a greatly distended belly. While Jon and Daenerys were often closer to Spirit - the boy bonded to Queen Lyanna matching his mistress and name in mood - Uncle Benjen's direwolf was a close second, especially now that she was close to whelping out pups. "Sprinter, girl," Jon said, the direwolf pondering towards the rug by the hearth. "Want something?"

Sprinter looked at him once, flicked her ears, then plopped on the rug. Not even bothering to fold her legs but rather laying on her side.

Sansa giggled. "Gods, she's so beautiful." Kneeling by the direwolf, she rubbed her belly. "Gonna be a mama soon? Yes you are, yes you…" Her face suddenly lit up. "Jon, Dany, I can feel the pups."

"No," gasped Dany, racing over to rub Sprinter's belly. Sure enough, a few sausage shapes wriggled underneath the swollen belly. "It feels like when Lya was pregnant with Lyarra, right Jon?"

"Aye, it does, and with Jae and the twins… and muna with Serra and Daemon." He rubbed her belly with gusto, making Sprinter's tail swish up and down, smacking against the wooden floor. "You know, this means we're all getting direwolves."

Eyes widening, Sansa couldn't help but grin. "Pups, just like you and your dragons."

"Just like that. One wolf for all of us… even you, Dany."

The silver-haired Princess raised her brow quizzically. "Me, a direwolf? I have no first man blood."

"Technically, you do. Through your grandmother, Betha Blackwood." Two eyes widened. "You have the first man blood, and I think there must've been a Stark that married a male Blackwood… certainly Blackwoods married male Starks."

"Never thought about that before." Dany stroked Sprinter's head. "Spirit and Sprinter have always liked me, isn't that right girl?" The wolf flicked her ears and licked Dany's hand, making her giggle. The thought of having a direwolf of her very own… Dany knew now why Rhae had constantly bugged Lya and Elia for one. To have one of these adorable balls of fur would be a dream.

The wolves had completely entranced the dragons in more ways than one.

Through the open door trotted Spirit, as if he had heard them speak. Without skipping a beat he licked a long stripe up Jon's face before snuggling to Sprinter's side, barking once. "Ewwww!"

Sansa suppressed a giggle… then stopped suppressing it. "How can you be mad at such a pretty face." She ruffled Spirit's muzzle, while the direwolf just snorted as if annoyed at being called pretty. "Why haven't you been around the mama of your pups, Spirit?" Sansa asked in a motherly tone.

It suited her.

"I'll tell you why." The first human intruder into their happy moment together was Rhaenys, smirking and with her arms crossed, hip angled against the doorway. "This little rascal was off making another litter off of Frost."

As it digested, Jon clapped his hands. "More direwolves, yes!"

Rhaenys only laughed. "Oh dear valonqar." She ruffled his hair just as he ruffled Sprinter's fur, getting a protest from him. "You're still so young."

"I'm not young! I'm a Ser," he insisted. "Not even Sandor's a Ser."

"Cause I don't want to be," grumbled the Hound from outside the door.

"Shut up and go away!" Dany did not want him around right now.

He snorted again. "Don't answer to you, Silver Pest." That only made Dany seethe, which Sansa calmed by squeezing her hand.

"You're still young in this, Jon… still have a ways to go when your eyes rake over Dany and Sansa here with something other than familial affection, and they you."

"What are you talking about?"

Dany was equally confused. "Yeah, what are you talking about?"

But Sansa, remembering the tingly feeling from earlier… her blush returned, even worse this time. Before they could notice she buried her head in Spirit's fur, trying not to think on it and rather on the direwolf pup in Sprinter that would soon be hers.

Jon didn't notice.

Neither did Dany.

But Rhaenys did, and the grin on her face only widened to the maddening curiosity and cluelessness of her brother and aunt. The time will come brother, the time will come. She just walked out of the room in a guffaw of laughter.

"I do not think anyone could've reached the same level of amusement as your brother, Cersei." Elia walked through the corridors of Winterfell's main keep, bundled up tightly against the cold - Lyanna had pretty much gotten her dressed properly for the North, though the Dornish Queen would rather have been snuggled up against her for warmth. "He nearly fell over."

Cersei shook her head, though couldn't help but smirk. "He was… always the most eager to irritate our father." She was equally as bundled, though seemed far more used to it. The lioness of the North. "Do not get me wrong, I have such eagerness too, I'm just more circumspect about it."

Chuckling, Elia looked over at her goodsister. Cersei Lannister, her goodsister - she never would've guessed. "You chose Tytos as a name simply to bother him?"

"I suppose so… as good a reason as any." They emerged out of the keep, walking along the battlements. "I love all my children and so does Ned, so he won't know any anger from my father on that regard if you are so worried about your nephew."

"Just glad you gave two of your children by Ned Northern names, though Sansa and Rickard both hold northern names… if I recall something Sansa was originally named Celia."

"By Catelyn Tully." Cersei snorted. "A southern name doesn't suit her. She's a proper Lady, but of the North. Not the south." She looked at Elia, the Queen just as beautiful as when she married Rhaegar… even moreso now that Cersei thought of it, even after five pregnancies. A glow and serenity about her that her younger self never had. It was, refreshing. "Something I have noticed, while Rhaenys and Aegon have visited Dorne several times and Baelon put the sun of House Martell on his sigil, none of your children bear Dornish names."

Raising her brow, Elia regarded the sentiment. "And Some have Northern names at Lyanna's instigation, I know." Many of her fellow Dornish had pointed that out. "Truthfully, Cersei, would a Dornish name lessen the frostiness between them and I over Baelon's succession and my love for Lyanna?"

"Point taken." A snort. "At this rate Jon will name his first daughter Nymeria."

"Perhaps not his first." They both laughed merrily - the boy could charm anyone, even Cersei Lannister. "I know Ned would like him to foster at Winterfell. As would I and Robb and Sansa."

Elia grinned. "Oh, I know Sansa would." She wondered what the girl would think if she knew Rhaegar, Lya, and she were thinking of betrothing her to Baelon. Alongside Daenerys in the case of her and Lya.

Given how close the two ladies were, Elia imagined that's what she and Lyanna would've been had the north been connected with Dorne - something she planned on changing involving Arianne and Oberyn's girls. The marriage of Jorah Mormont and Obara only exemplified that change. "Perhaps after he turns three and ten… they all turn three and ten rather. Let the boys finish their squireship with Arthur and Jaime."

"Everyone says Robb looks nothing like a Stark." Rumors, horrible ones, Robb being a bastard of Jaime's rather than Ned's. Cersei was hurt greatly at how close to the truth they were, and did her best to shield Robb from them. Her father and she shared that desire.

"Those people are liars."

It meant more than anything to Cersei that Elia supported her. Female friends… she had few that weren't forced in their childhoods to be with her… and suffer her at her worst.

Childish shouts of happiness drew their attention to the godswood of all places… and a hoot that only a dragon could produce. Sure enough, there was Valyrax - the Black Dread Reborn - wingclaws perched on the walls and head leaning in to watch. "He loves Baelon. Never goes anywhere without him."

"A Targaryen and their dragon… a wonderful sight."

"Aye, very much so."

Among the trees, the children played with each other. "Quickly, Visenya! Brandon Snow is going for Balerion." That was Sansa's voice, leaping through the bushes in a pair of trousers. Since when does she wear trousers.

Out of nowhere, Daenerys tackled a figure… who looked to be Arthur Mormont. "I got him. He won't hurt the Black Dread." The boy grunted, upset at having been caught by a dainty girl like Daenerys. Above, Valyrax's eyes danced in mirth at even ever being in pretend danger.

Jon, at the van of the group with Robb by his side, pointed a training sword at Cersei's stepson Rickard. "Torrhen Stark, I, Aegon Targaryen, first of my name, order you to bend the knee." While Tully in looks, such were closer to the Starks than the perfectly Lannister Robb, so it made sense Rickard would end up as the King who Knelt. "My brother Orys and I defeated your pathetic attempt to kill my dragon, but I will be merciful. Kneel now, and your life will be spared and you will merely now be my servant." There was a kingly, haughty smirk on his face as he said it.

Cersei smiled at the sight. "He and Robb, as close as brothers. I'm glad he's friends with both your eldest sons, Elia."

But Elia didn't listen, only spotting the grin on Jon's face… and the dejection and humiliation on Rickard's. Jon wouldn't hurt even an insect… but does he even know that Rickard is hurting? Elia could see it, but only in living a life of humility and constant humbling that they raised Jon never to have.

Jon… could Arthur be right?

Watching Rickard kneel, eyes on the ground rather than to the cousin that he thought loved him - and he did love him in reality - Elia felt herself being convinced as her husband had.

A/N: Seems Elia's now on board with Arthur's scheme.

Little lion cubs for the Starklings (all but Robb, Sansa, and Rickard), while Dany is getting jealous XD

Arya's enamored, lol.

Until next time! I'll try to keep a semi-decent update schedule.