Shocked, Lord Stark leaned forward, his gaze focused on Aegon. "You make a significant claim. What proof do you have to back your assertion that you are a Blackfyre?" he inquired.

I met Lord Stark's gaze, my response unwavering. "Daemon Blackfyre took the utmost precaution," I began. "He entrusted the scrolls bearing his legitimization and ennoblement, the very foundations of House Blackfyre's claim, to the vaults of the Iron Bank."

I continued, "If need be, I can have the Iron Bank confirm the authenticity of these documents. They are a testament to our lineage, safeguarded by one of the most influential institutions in the world."

For a time, all that could be heard was the crackle of the fire as Lord Stark and Howland considered my words.

Lord Stark eventually broke the silence, his voice gentle yet inquisitive. "Tell us your story, Aegon," he said, his eyes meeting mine with a sense of resolve. "Tell us about your family."

I took a deep breath, "My story begins with the fall of Daemon Blackfyre during the battle at Redgrass Field. History tells that both of Daemon's twin sons fell on that battlefield, but the truth is much different. While grievously injured, the younger twin, Aemon, survived the battle and was taken to safety by a loyal knight."

I paused, my eyes distant as I recalled the many times my father sat me down and retold this very story. "This knight was the third son of a landed knightly house in the Stormlands. He knew the value of Aemon's blood and offered to hide and raise him as his son, starting an Essosi offshoot of House Whitewater. My family lived as minor nobility, keeping our true lineage a secret."

Lord Stark listened attentively, his gaze never leaving Aegon. "And how did you come to be here in Westeros?" he asked.

I sighed a hint of regret in my voice. "I was initially driven by rashness, a burning desire to reclaim our family's honor. I arrived in Westeros and, through my winnings from the Harrenhal Tournament, purchased a fostering with House Bracken. The tournament allowed me to gain recognition and establish myself in the realm."

Lord Stark nodded, absorbing Aegon's words. "We remember the tournament," he said. "But it's the events that followed that concern us."

I met Lord Stark's gaze, determination in his eyes. "As you now know, I was on a quest to prove myself. It was during the pursuit of that goal that I ended up here with you."

Howland Reed leaned forward, his eyes filled with curiosity. "Aegon, you must know that your claim to the Iron Throne is significant. Do you intend to press it?"

My response was swift and unequivocal. "No, not anytime soon, if ever," I said. "Even if I had wanted to, one squire against the Seven Kingdoms wouldn't lead to anything but more turmoil. I truly desire to restore House Blackfyre and be recognized as a house in good standing within the kingdoms. To make this so, I'm willing to swear away my claim to the throne."

Silence hung in the air momentarily, the weight of my words settling upon the northerners. Lord Stark's gaze remained intense, his thoughts evident in the furrow of his brow.

I glanced at Lord Stark, his voice steady as I concluded, "This is why your secret is safe, Lord Stark. I won't endanger my own blood."

The room felt charged with the significance of this moment. The fate of Aegon Blackfyre and House Stark were now intertwined, as the past and the present converged in a new and uncertain future...

The next morning sun cast a somber light upon the Tower of Joy as Howland and I set about the solemn task of collecting the remains of the dead. The large ceramic pots I found within the tower seemed appropriate to carry the noble ash and bone. Alongside the ashes, I carefully wrapped Dawn, the legendary sword of Ser Arthur Dayne. It would soon be returned to House Dayne, a gesture of respect for the fallen Knight.

Now holding the weight of precious cargo, the pots awaited their journey on the wagon. Howland's assistance was invaluable as we loaded and secured them in place. The Tower of Joy had witnessed a tragedy, and now it bore witness to the preparations for the departed's final journey.

Lord Stark's summons interrupted our task, drawing us to the Silent Sister's morbid work. With heavy hearts, we assisted in carefully placing the bodies of Lyanna and the Lord Commander onto the wagon. Their forms were now shrouded and prepared for the long journey ahead.

As we worked, my thoughts drifted back to the decisions made the night before. The path was clear—Starfall. We would part ways at the famed castle, with Lord Stark and Howland delivering Dawn and Ser Arthur's ashes to House Dayne. I, still under the guise of Oros Whitewater, would lead my men to the docks and secure passage to Oldtown, the Lord Commander's final destination.

Our journey would converge once more in King's Landing, where Lord Stark would facilitate discussions about my future with Lord Bracken and Lord Tully. Until then, I would continue to bear the alias of Oros Whitewater. The secret weighed heavy, but it was a burden I carried with a determination born from duty and the desire to see House Blackfyre rise from the ashes of history.

As the wagon trundled southward, the road stretched before us, winding through the desolate landscape. Jack and the other man-at-arms, their faces still worn from the recent battle, rode alongside us. The weight of the noble ashes and Dawn pressed upon the wagon's creaking wheels.

The journey was a somber one, filled with the weight of unspoken grief. The baby; now claimed to be the child of the wet nurse, became the bittersweet center of our conversation. I recounted the tale, carefully weaving a narrative that Lyanna did not survive her labor, shielding the true identity of the infant.

When we had reached Kingsgrave, Jack and the other man-at-arms had greeted us. I conveyed the fabricated tale, emphasizing the tragic fate of Lyanna and the child. "Lyanna's child did not survive her labor," I spoke, keeping my tone measured. "The babe you see is of the wet nurse. Lyanna and her child both found their final rest in the Tower of Joy." With a nod from Jack, we continued on, leaving Kingsgrave behind en route to Starfall.

Starfall Keep, perched upon the cliff's edge, presented a commanding silhouette against the canvas of the Dornish sky. Its sandstone towers, weathered by centuries of coastal winds, stood tall and proud. The warm hues of the fortress seamlessly merged with the golden sands below, a harmonious blend that whispered of both strength and history.

From a distance, the indigo and silver banners of House Dayne danced in the coastal breeze, their colors catching the sunlight. The main gate, adorned with intricate carvings, beckoned like a sentinel welcoming those who sought entry.

As the castle rose against the azure sky, the sheer cliffs beneath it mirrored the steadfast resolve of House Dayne. The coastal landscape embraced the fortress, creating a symbiotic dance between stone and sea. Viewed from afar, Starfall was a timeless masterpiece, guardian of secrets, and a beacon of Dornish heritage.

Approaching the castle, riders emerged from the shadow of the towers. Lord Stark partially unwrapped Dawn, revealing the hilt, a symbolic gesture that carried the weight of proof. The riders sped ahead to inform the keep of our purpose.

At Starfall, the castle guards assisted in unloading the wagon, until only the remains of the fallen Lord Commander were left secured in the wagon. Lord Stark, Howland, and I were welcomed with the traditional Salt and Bread. As Lord Stark spoke with Lord Dayne, the somber news of Ser Arthur's death lingered in the air, a heavy cloak draped over the evening.

Dinner was a muted affair, subdued by the melancholic news. After a night's rest, we exchanged a brief farewell. The Castellan approached me, conveying Lord Dayne's orders in support of my journey to Oldtown. His dromund, the Stargazer, would ensure the safe passage of the Lord Commander's remains to their final destination.

At the docks, we loaded onto the Stargazer. The journey was uneventful, the ship cutting through the waters like a silent ghost, until one fateful morning when the other Riverlander man-at-arms, Broderick, was missing.

The sea breeze whispered through the rigging as I stood on the forecastle, my eyes fixed on the horizon. Jack approached, his footsteps heavy, alerting me of his presence.

"Oros," Jack spoke, his voice a low murmur against the backdrop of the ship's creaking timbers. "We need to talk about Broderick."

I turned to face him, the morning sun casting shadows across the weathered deck. "What's on your mind, Jack?"

He hesitated for a moment as if searching for the right words. The ship gently swayed beneath us.

"The night before we sailed," Jack began, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity hinting at his words' weight, "Broderick and I were drinking. Deep in our cups, he started questioning the story about the baby."

I furrowed my brow, a sense of foreboding settling over me. "What did he say?"

Jack took a deep breath, his gaze flickering as he recalled the events. "He wagered that the baby was more than what we claimed. He believed it was a dragon, and he saw an opportunity in that."

My eyes narrowed, a mixture of disbelief and concern. "What opportunity?"

"He was talkin' treason, Oros," Jack admitted. "Said we could turn you nobles over to the King when we return to King's Landing. Gold, titles, maybe even a knighthood for me."

A chill ran down my spine, and I looked out to the horizon, the endless sea mirroring the uncertainty that now gripped me. "And what did you do?"

Jack turned to me, his gaze unwavering. "Broderick seems to have fallen overboard last night; not a sound was heard from the man. I suppose it was hard to call out after a dagger ripped through his neck."

The revelation hung in the air like a heavy fog. As I struggled to find words, Jack spoke.

"Loyalty is earned, Oros," Jack's eyes searching mine for a reaction. "Do not take it lightly."

I nodded solemnly, acknowledging the gravity of the moment. As Jack walked away, I stood there dumbfounded, the weight of Jack's words sinking in. I am left with but one recurring thought...under no circumstances should I get on Jacks's bad side.