The Last Wolf and the Northern Dragon

by Alperez16

Two lives are taken and two not, changing the game forever. Jon Snow is raised by his uncle Benjen to be Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North while Rhaella Targaryen escapes to Essos to raise her children and plot her revenge.

6. And the World Keeps Turning

Winterfell 287 AC.

Ashara Dayne.

She stifled her laughter as she watched from the battlements as Jon and Brandon, covered in mud, were chastised by Barbrey. The sullen look on their faces when they realized that their little rascal of a sister had tried to follow them and ended up falling into a puddle was too much for her to handle. Brandon's first reflex as he heard his sister's indignant cry had been to laugh and Ashara quickly thought that his namesake would have probably done the same at this age. While Jon rushed to his cousin at the same time as her mother to see if Bethany was well.

"I told you to mind your surroundings, boys. This little pup here wants to do all that you do, and look what happened." Barbrey growled, but Ashara knew her enough to see that she, too, was amused by the situation. Bethany was glaring at them, more embarrassed than hurt, especially since she knew that she couldn't keep up with the boys at her age.

"We were looking for the cats, Aunt, we didn't see Beth coming," Jon said sullenly.

"This is why you shall always look everywhere." Master Syrio said, to the boys' utter shame. "Have you not learned this lesson already? Even the Lady knows it. Chasing cats and getting them will do you no good if you cannot see the dog running after it, or the pup after you."

"Beth is sooo annoying!" Brandon whined, only to be elbowed by his cousin.

"Sorry, Master. Forgive us, Aunt. We do better next time. Beth, do you want me to help you change? It's my fault you got muddy." Jon said looking to the now more happy-looking little girl.

Little Bethany shook her head and smiled at Jon before holding out her hand to Barbrey, who sighed loudly.

"I guess the honor falls back to me… I swear this girl will be the end of me. You are definitely too young to be chasing cats, child! Moreover, this place is full of dangerous things! The next time we come here, the gods be my witness, I will tie your wrist to mine so you can't run around with them!" the Lady grumbled, and Ashara chuckled, not knowing if Bran got his personality from his mother or his father, as both could be gloomy at times. "Go on with your training, you two."

"It so unfair!" Brandon mumbled, on the verge of crying. "She the one silly and we the one they yelled at!"

"Life is unfair, boy." Syrio retorted. "Now get on one leg and think about what would have happened had the little pup been hurt badly."

"Mama would cry," Brandon said sadly as he struggled to keep his posture.

"Aye, so would I. And Unle Ben, and you. Because we love Beth, do we not?" Jon added.

"Aye, we do."

Ashara loved seeing Jon articulate his emotions. He wasn't afraid to tell his cousins, aunt, uncle, and even herself how much he loved them. That was not what was usual in the North, as Benjen had pointed out. Yet while Jon had quickly understood to keep his demonstrations of affection for private settings, she would see that he was never hindered in his expressions of love when he did so.

His nameday was close and Benjen had decided to invite some Lords of the North and their children to celebrate and to start choosing who they would want to foster in Winterfell. The number of new births in the North was extensive, as it probably was in the South, judging by all the announcements they had received by ravens. None more pleasing for her than the one she had received but a few days earlier.

My dear Ashara,

I am so very pleased to announce the arrival of your nephew

Lord Edric Dayne.

Both mother and child fare well.

Little Allyria is over the moon and so am I, though we truly miss you and wish you and your son were here with us.

I know his nameday is coming soon, so I hope you will not mind me sending him a gift, to remind him of our unwavering attachment to him. It is already on its way, as a raven cannot fly with much, but I think he will receive it later on.

I hope someday the two cousins will meet. It will do my heart good to see you both hale and healthy.

Love always,

Lord Vorian Dayne

Lord of Starfall.

When the gift itself arrived a few days later, Ashara was most pleased to see it. As for Jon, he was overjoyed at dinner that night to see the painted wooden shield his uncle had sent for him. It had both the Stark and the Dayne sigils, which made Ashara smile with pride as she knew her brother was fully committed to selling the lie. She had often told Jon and Brandon stories from her home, of the star that fell and the forging of Dawn. The boys were enthralled with the stories about the sword, which had made her think about a saying her mother used to say.

"Every boy in Westeros dreams of becoming the Sword of the Morning, and every girl wishes to wed such a knight."

The gift, however, was not well received by some in the keep. While Benjen gracefully thanked Vorian for his thoughtfulness, the discussion it opened had not been well received by Barbrey and the rest of the household during the celebrations.

"Mother, since I have a shield now, does that mean I will be the next Sword of the Morning?" Jon asked innocently and Ashara's heart dropped upon hearing the silence his words created.

"Maybe one day, sweetling… But this is not the time to talk about it" she whispered.

"I wish I can be one day! The Sword of the Morning is the strongest, the best knight to ever exist. Right, Unle?"

"Jon, that's enough…" she said pleadingly as she could see people around her tensing, but her son paid her no mind, far too excited about his gift.

"That's what you said, Mother! One day I will be better than Unle Arthur and -"

"ENOUGH!" Barbrey yelled, her fists banging on the table. "I want no mention of this accursed man and his damned sword at this table!"

"Barbrey," Benjen said sharply, startling the grieving woman who suddenly realized her outburst had made Jon cry.

"I'm… I'm sorry, Jon. It's not…"

"I'm sorry, Aunt. I will not talk about it anymore." Jon replied, trying to contain his sobs.

"We'll be in our rooms, my Lord, my Lady." Ashara quickly said, picking Jon up and gesturing for Richard to follow them.

Ashara could see that Barbrey was as distraught as Jon and she thanked the Gods this had happened before any of the Lords' arrivals. Her heart ached for the little boy who had been shielded so far from the consequences of the Rebellion and who would have to learn to let go of his innocence much too soon for her liking. For innocence would lead to more incidents and more losses.

She motioned Richard to enter with her in Jon's room, knowing she would probably need his help for the conversation to come.

"You must be very confused about why Aunt Barbrey reacted this way," she said as she put Jon on his bed, caressing his cheek softly as he nodded. "There are things you don't know, things you are too young to understand yet, but in essence, they do not really like your uncle Arthur here."

"Why? He is a knight!"

"I know, I know… Remember the time we talked about the war that happened when you asked me why you didn't have a father as Bran did?" she asked to a nod. "Remember I told you there were always two parties in a war? People fighting against other people?"

"And no one is right or wrong because they all fight for what they believe in." Jon finished and Ashara marveled at how insightful and bright he was.

"Exactly. Well, it doesn't prevent people from feeling anger and sometimes hatred towards those who fight against them, especially when they lost loved ones in that war. Your Uncle Benjen and Aunt Barbrey were in one camp, and Arthur and I were in the camp fighting against them. Unfortunately, they lost people they loved deeply because your uncle Arthur fought against them."

She hesitated, not knowing if that was the right moment to tell him about what Arthur did. Jon thought of Ned Stark as his father, and Ashara was the one to blame for this, but she did not want to lie to him and confuse him any more than necessary.

"So… they hate us?" Jon exclaimed, his voice laced with fear and hurt.

"No, sweetling. Not you. They would never hate you." she quickly denied. "They love you very very much."

"But you and Unle Arthur…"

"I don't think they hate me either, dear. Maybe other people around here, but not your Aunt and your Uncle."

"But Unle Arthur…" he insisted and she nodded. "But he is family!"

"Not to them, he isn't."

"Does it mean he is a bad man?"

"There is no better man in this world than Ser Arthur Dayne," she said wholeheartedly. " But the world is a complicated place, Jon. People won't have to like the same people as you do, but that doesn't mean that they dislike you. I just want you to be careful for now, not to mention anything about Arthur and Dawn when out of this room."

"Why?" Jon asked curiously.

"For your safety and mine. I mean it, Jon. It is very important for you not to speak about this, especially not in front of the Northern Lords who will come for your nameday. Never. Can you do that?"

"Do I have to be a lord about it?" he asked fearfully and she nodded, smiling as she remembered how they taught him the differences between being a lord and being himself.

"Yes, My Lord," she replied and chuckled as he took his serious face.

"You'll still tell me stories about your home, Mother?"

"I will never stop, my love. Here, it is your safe place. Jon's place, where we can talk about everything you want, me, you, and Ser Symon."

"I can talk with Ser Symon too?" Jon said, surprised.

"Of course, you can, my Lord!" Richard, who stood guard inside the room, exclaimed cheerily. "That is why I am here for!"

"Truly?"

"Yes, my Lord. You can tell me anything that bothers you, and I will protect your secrets as well as I do you and your mother." Richard smiled at Jon, who started to smile back.

They all jumped as they heard a knock on the door and Ashara was surprised to see Barbrey come inside.

"I… I wanted to make sure that Jon was well and to apologize for my behavior." the lady stated, visibly uncomfortable.

"I am well. Aunt. As long as you do not hate me."

"I would never -" Barbrey gasped in shock.

"I know. Mother told me you wouldn't. I'm glad you love me still." Jon said, running to his dumbfounded Aunt to hug her leg.

She gestured to Barbrey that she would explain later, giving the aunt and nephew the time they needed to mend their relationship.

Ashara slept next to Jon that night, at his request, and she knew he was deeply affected by what had happened that day. It was the beginning of the long road that would lead him to become Aemon Targaryen, and while she was aware that it had to come to pass one day, she had wished for him to enjoy his childhood for a while longer.

It reminded her of Rhaegar. What she knew of his childhood and days later the way his son was standing and waiting for the Lords to arrive made her heart ache. The sullen look he wore at that moment looked so much like the one she'd seen on Rhaegar's face far too often.

Lord Cerwyn and Tallhart were the first to arrive, and Jon greeted them as properly as a four-nameday Lord could while supported by his uncle. Ashara was touched that he kept glancing at her to seek her approval, as she stood in the background, almost hidden. She forbore it so as to not offend the opinionated Northmen by her presence and she couldn't be near him to praise him. So she hoped that her smiles were reassuring enough for him.

Lord Bolton's arrival surprisingly eased the tension in the courtyard. Although young Domeric was not Jon's blood, he was Brandon and Bethany's cousin. Which had meant a lot to the young Lord of Winterfell. They both doted on little Bethany and acted as her private guards while playing with her, and Jon obviously enjoyed playing with the older boy as much as he did with Brandon.

They had discussed fostering with Lord Bolton, who was still on the fence about it since Domeric was his only heir, and had suggested sending Jon to the Dreadfort instead. Ashara hoped that Barbrey's connection to Roose Bolton's late wife and that seeing them both evolve in Winterfell would help in the coming negotiations. She understood the need for having a good relationship with the Dreadfort since it was one of the major Houses of the North, feared by all if not respected because of their history that could be traced as far back as the Starks. They were also tied with House Ryswell through Domeric, and with Brandon as the future Lord of Winterfell under Aemon's rule. Their support of the future king would also benefit the Boltons, bringing them closer to the Wardens of the North than they'd ever been.

To her relief, the feast that night went without a hitch. She was still amazed to see the differences between the North and the South. Benjen had explained to her that although the Northmen loved to be celebrated, what they enjoyed the most was to be treated as equals. The High Table of the Hosts was not too far from the others in the Great Hall and as soon as the meal was finished, children were allowed to mingle and play together, no matter their status. Seeing Jon enjoying his night with the Lords' sons and daughters had been most welcome to her eyes and a boon to her heart.

The next day started nicely enough, with the boys being given leave to train with Syrio and showing their friends what they had learned so far. Since they were of a similar age, it was heartwarming to see them all agree to help Jon and Brandon chase cats in the courtyard. Meanwhile, Barbrey, Wylla, Nan, and herself watched over those who were not old enough to run.

"It is so good to see all these babes in Winterfell, after all the hardships we faced…" Lady Glover said dreamily.

"I am glad you let the boys and girls play together." Maege Mormont added. "I don't think we were ever able to spar here with the previous Lord."

"Benjen knows how important it is to foster good relationships from a young age. He knows too that the future Ladies of the North are a wild bunch. This one here is already giving us trouble." Barbrey scoffed.

"Truly? How so?"

"She wants to train with the boys already," Ashara said, chuckling. "If not for Lady Barbrey watching her like a hawk, I'm certain she would have tried to pick up a wooden sword by now."

"Oh thank the Gods!" Maege exclaimed. "I feared I was the only one struggling with the little ones. Look at Lyra, wanting to join her much older sisters. I'm surprised she's not making a fuss today."

"Probably because she has someone her age to play with." Ashara pointed out.

"Aye, you have the right of it," Maege said happily.

She smiled, feeling somewhat included by the Ladies of the North, if not validated. They were not all as Barbrey was, but contrary to how the men reacted, once they had made their feelings about her known they all agreed to make an effort because a child who would grow to become their Liege was involved. She wished it would have been the same with some Lords, but there were some fools in their midst who still couldn't let go of their contempt, as she was about to find out.

"What are you doing, Daryn? Get back here this instant!`` She heard Lord Hornwood scream at his son and heir who was helping Jon in his training.

"Is something the matter, my Lord?" Barbrey inquired, and Halys Hornwood rolled his eyes.

"I do not want him to be near this foreigner. Why you let your boy and our Liege be trained by him is beyond me. They are of the North, they should be trained by a man of the North."

"Syrio Forel is a capable and skilled man, and both Jon and Brandon are in luck in having him teaching them." Barbrey retorted.

"This man is not from here. It is already bad enough to have our Liege being influenced by his southern mother, to have him trained by foreigners… What will be next? Will you put a Sept in Winterfell and have all of our sons and daughters turn to the Seven?" Lord Hornwood said scornfully.

"My son is of the North, Lord Hornwood. He is taught about the Old Gods and the way of the North." Ashara said as calmly as she could.

"There is none better than a Northern man-at-arms to teach a Warden how to lead his men. This is why you and your get lost the war. If you cannot understand this, then you better head south and leave your son's education to us. You will not be missed by any of us."

"My son's regent is the one in charge of his protection and education. He is the one who agreed that having Syrio Forel here would be beneficial for him. Moreover; you did not win the Rebellion because of your Northern skills but because a Southerner defeated another Southerner. Else it would have been a Stark on the Iron Throne and not a Baratheon." Ashara retorted angrily despite herself.

"I will not argue about the Rebellion with a Southern whore." he spat and she saw everyone tense upon hearing these words.

She glanced at Jon, hoping he hadn't witnessed the scene, only to have her heart break, even more, when she saw him being held back by his Water Dance teacher.

"That is enough. Why don't we settle this argument with a spar, my Lord?" Ser Symon exclaimed loudly, to her surprise. She hadn't seen him move away from her side and tried to follow him, only to be stopped by Barbrey.

"Let your guard teach this fool a lesson." Jon's aunt whispered in her ear as she brought her close to comfort her.

"Why would I?" Lord Horwood sneered at Symon.

"Well, to prove your point!" the knight answered. "I'm as much a Southerner as my Lady Dayne is. I have been trained as her brother had been, and her other lord brother has sent me here because he thinks me good enough to protect his sister and nephew. If you beat me, then everything you said would be proven right."

"Let us do this, then." Lord Hornwood agreed.

She watched with bated breath as both Symon and Halys Hornwood quickly took their positions after picking up their blunted swords. She didn't fear for Symon's safety, but the way people kept glancing at her made her fear reprisals if he'd win.

"To five points or a yield, Ser, my Lord." Ser Rodrik intervened.

"This will not take five points. I am about to put this fool on his arse!" Hornwood gloated, making Symon smirk and nod his agreement to the other knight.

The Lord didn't see his foe coming. It reminded Ashara of every time Arthur wanted to teach a prickly knight a lesson and she shook her head fondly. Richard Lonmouth hadn't lied when he'd said he'd trained with her brother, and it seemed he had borrowed some pages from Arthur's book when he was with him in Essos. He had also taken the time to better his technique thanks to Syrio's counsel. While she was skeptical about him being at the same level as Arthur or Barristan Selmy, the newly named Ser Symon Lake was most certainly a skilled fighter and she knew that Lord Hornwood was in for a rough time.

She heard the Lord's first yelp but didn't see where Symon had struck. A second followed shortly after as Symon hit his opponent's back with the flat of his sword.

"This makes it two to none." he mocked the visibly irritated lord, who tried to retaliate by launching himself in the duel and swinging his sword with more force. "While it is true that Northmen are strong, most of them rely far too much on brute force. It might work against wildlings, Ironborn, or green boys, but it doesn't always work, my Lord. Not against those trained by men of the South," his words brought a smirk to Ashara's face and she saw even some of the other Northern women were smiling a little.

Symon ended his explanation by narrowly avoiding a strike aimed at his head and using the momentum to strike in turn, hitting the lord first on his back and then on his calf, forcing him to kneel down in pain.

"And now we are at four to none."

She could see the angered and somewhat humbled look on Lord Hornwood's face, the smile on Jon's as he watched and seemed to almost copy the moves that Symon was using. The end when it came was a move she knew all too well and had seen Arthur perform more than once. Symon feigned strike after strike, he made it clear that not only had he Lord Hornwood's measure but the measure of others too. Then he left himself open, only to not be there when Lord Horwnwood struck his blow. With a sweep of his leg, the older man fell to the ground and Ser Symon held his sword to his neck.

"Yield." she heard him say and despite himself, Lord Hornwood knew he had no choice.

"Aye, I yield."

"Mayhap you'd like your own son to learn as the Lord of Winterfell is Lord Hornood, and next time you'll think twice before you insult Lord Jon's mother." Ser Symon said and though his words were spoken with little malice, the way he looked at Lord Hornwood promised much should he not have learned his lesson.

"That is quite a knight you've got here, Lady Dayne!" Maege Mormont whispered, visibly impressed. "If your son's teacher is as talented as he is, then no wonder why you and Lord Benjen keep him in your service."

Ashara smiled and watched with pride as Jon and Brandon rushed to the knight's side, speaking excitedly as Symon sent a wink her way. She even caught Barbrey's smirk and felt glad to have her support still. She knew people would talk about this day at lengths she didn't care to guess, only the outcome gave her as much happiness as it made her feel powerful. The lords had been chastised and some of them even asked their children to join in a water dancing lesson in the days to come. Ashara acquiesced knowing that pettiness would not be viewed kindly, even though she felt nothing but vindicated by Ser Symon's display.

She thanked him later that night, the knight enjoying it way too much for her liking.

"Do not thank me for this, truly. Even you would have been able to put that prick on his arse, Ash."

"Still, I thank you all the same," she said, placing a soft kiss on his cheek before closing the door to her room.

"I have your back, Ash. Yours and Jon's. Always." her heart fluttered as she heard those words, and later when she took to her bed, she thanked the Gods for sending him her way before closing her eyes.

Braavos 287 AC.

Barristan Selmy.

Waking up and breaking his fast with his brothers was something he most enjoyed. Though not exactly White Sword Tower, or even a tower at all, their rooms were in the same wing and Arthur had replicated it as best he could. He, Alliser Thorne, Jaremy Rykker, and Arthur himself made up the Queen's Kingsguard. When he'd asked why it was four instead of seven, Arthur had simply said that in time it would be up to the king to make them what they had once been and he wished to leave options open to him. Something that Barristan had agreed with and had simply been glad that he'd been deemed worthy of a place once more.

Taking his seat at the table, he was joined by Jaremy which meant that both Arthur and Alliser were on duty. At times it would be one of the princes or the princess that one of them would guard, but unlike at the Red Keep, things in the Sealord's Palace were less stringent in this regard. With their guards, the Sealord's own, and with them knowing more about this city than they had even about King's Landing, there was little if any danger. So it was only when Prince Viserys or Princess Daenerys left the manse that they'd truly have a man with a white cloak as part of their protection. Not that they or their brother left the manse that much, even the queen herself held more of her meetings here than traveled to anywhere else in the city or beyond, though she had gone to visit the barracks of the Holy Company more than once.

With a nod of his head, he rose to his feet and made his way down the long corridor and to the queen's rooms. As expected it was Arthur himself who was on duty and he gave him a warm smile as he took his place. It wouldn't be to his bed that Arthur went though, instead, it would be the sparring yard and to spend time with Prince Viserys. The young prince was a most diligent student and had come along greatly under Arthur's tutelage. He'd become almost a squire to the Sword of the Morning, though not officially as of yet. So while he and the others helped out in his training too, it was mainly Arthur who he took lessons with. Hearing the door open, he turned to see the queen ready for the day and then found himself walking with her to the nursery. Standing outside of it, he listened as she spoke to her newborn son and to his wet nurse before she then walked to her solar to get to the business of the day.

For the rest of the morning, other than Jon Connington and Princess Daenerys, the queen spent her time alone in her solar. When it came time for lunch, it was to the nursery once again and he smiled when she left it holding her son in her arms. He stood in the corner of the room, Ser Jaremy, and Qarro Volentin at the door, while the queen, her husband, and her children ate and spoke together. There may not be true love between the queen and her husband, at least not on his queen's part, but there was a fondness and at no point had the man ever raised his hand or sought to deny her the right to do the things she did. Often he'd wondered about the true nature of their relationship, but in the end, it was not for him to know such things. As long as he remained supportive and not abusive, and as long as his queen was happy with their arrangement, so then was he and the rest of the Kingsguard.

"My son wishes to visit the Sept, Ser Barristan, since Ser Arthur is at rest I'd seek you to accompany him." the queen said when the meal was done and Barristan looked to Ser Jaremy to take his place and then moved to the young prince.

As always when he was guarding Prince Viserys, talk soon turned to his past. The prince had probably been the most forgiving of him kneeling to the Stag, as he'd seemed to see his regret more truly than others, mayhap because of his youth. He had threatened him though and told him that if he ever betrayed his family again then it would be his blade that removed his head, something that had actually endeared the boy to him somewhat. After that, it was tales of Maelys the Monstrous and the War of the Ninepenny Kings, how he'd been given his epithet, and the ride against Prince Duncan. More and more it had become questions on what he'd done for the queen in Essos. Some of those tales he was happy to tell, some very much not, but in the telling of the one, he'd find himself thinking of the other.

"What was Qohor like Ser Barristan?" Prince Viserys asked as they walked to the Sept beyond the Sea, Barristan and the large accompaniment of guards looking to the prince and checking their surroundings for any danger at the same time.

"Dangerous, my prince."

Essos 284 to 286 AC.

Meeting up with Ser Bonifer Hasty again was a welcome surprise. As was seeing just how many men he'd gathered, though he wasn't sure he agreed that a sellsword company was the best of ideas. Still, it was not his place to question and while he struggled with his exile, he took some heart from the words that Jon Connington had spoken to him before he'd joined Monford Velaryon on his ship. Some of them at least.

"It's not forever, Barristan and there is still a path back to her grace's side for you."

"What must I do to walk that path, Jon?" he asked.

"Much and many things, Barristan. I'll not lie, some will test you, both your capabilities and your honor."

"Will it gain me back the favor I've lost?" he asked hopefully.

"It'll gain you back your position, Barristan, and I believe the favor too."

He'd suffered some harsh words from Monford Velaryon and then even harsher ones from Lucerys when they'd arrived at their destination. Ser Bonifer though had been more welcoming and more understanding and so his company was something he sought out more and more. At first, his tasks had been simple. They'd taken a few small contracts to get themselves known and between he and Bonifer, had led the men and done as they were bid.

As more men arrived, they'd found a need for more coin and so had taken on larger contracts, which was when the first of his own tasks had truly begun. Had someone told him that he'd work as a catspaw then he'd have laughed at them and his first instinct had been to refuse to do so. Jon Connington's words then came back to him and were added to by Bonifer's own. This was a test, a way to prove he was Leal once more, and was that not what he wished for? Was it not a chance to regain lost favor and to be what he once had been that had brought him to these shores?

The first man he'd killed for the Holy had been a priest in Qohor. Though truth be told he was a sorcerer or at least he wished to be. Barristan had tried to justify it with the reason for the contract, the death of a child that was blamed on the man, but in truth, he'd have killed the man even had he not been told such. He'd disguised himself as an older man, had used a staff as a crutch, and had made his way to the building the sorcerer used as a place of business. Feigning the need for the man's services, he'd staggered up the stairs and entered the room, easily passing the two guards who paid him little mind. Through a large double door, he walked and found himself in a room full of jars and books and facing a small old man who looked harmless, except for his eyes.

"You are not what you seem…I curse…."

"I've already been cursed," he said as he swung his staff hard and caught the man across the forehead.

He was dead before he hit the floor, and the sound of his body brought his two guards into the room. The two men looked from him to the body and back, before then moving to attack him. Though only armed with a staff, he was more than a match for them, yet he wished them no ill. So he sought not their deaths and that and that alone was why they still breathed when he left the room a few moments later. Well, that and he'd take no more lives than were needed on his path to redemption, a small concession he'd made to his honor.

For the next two years, he'd killed countless men. Had fought in countless battles. He'd seen the Holy rise from a mere sapling to as big as a heart tree. Only the Golden Company and maybe one other was larger than it in Essos and even that was debatable. Barristan would match the Holy against any, even the Golden Company and he'd certainly name the men who commanded it as their match. Ser Bonifer was as capable as any man and worth more than most. As for him, at times he'd felt lost and thought himself on a path to the seven hells. Some nights he'd woken up with the faces of the men he'd killed looking back at him and others he'd almost succumbed to drink to bring about his sleep.

Yet he'd held to his honor too, or as much of it as he could. No women, no children, no innocents, and not more lives than needed to be taken. He'd won the Holy a barracks, gained them favor with some of the most important men in Essos, and had helped Jon Connington's network of spies grow. At times he'd used threats to ensure their spies' safety, at other times he'd been far more direct. In the end, though few messed with their men, and fewer still, outright challenged them. He'd thought it to be his life, had feared his path to be never-ending, and then had been shocked when he received the call.

"It's time, Ser Barristan." Ser Bonifer said as he sat across from the man.

"What's my task?" he asked almost resignedly.

"To protect the queen and her children, Ser, to be what you once were. I've been asked to send you back to Braavos, Barristan, your time in exile is at an end."

"For true?" he asked in disbelief.

"For true. I'll miss you, Barristan, though it's far better work that you're tasked with now."

"That it is," he said happily.

Braavos Now.

They walked back into the Sealord's Palace and Barristan watched as the prince ran to show his mother the things he'd bought. He smiled at Ser Jaremy as he passed him and arrived at the Queen's solar to see Arthur stand at the door. The small nod of his head was the only exchange between them, though it was not because of a lack of rapport. Their relationship was not what it had once been, it may never be again, but it was a much better one than he'd hoped for. Forgiveness had been earned in Arthur's eyes, though it would take him some more time to forget. Something that Barristan was more than accepting about.

After he'd given his report to the Queen about her son's day, he made his way to his rooms and removed his armor. He ate that night sitting with Arthur while Jaremy and Alliser stood on duty, the conversation between the two of them was one spoken fondly and on days long since passed. They'd talked about Jaime Lannister and what he'd felt regarding him, Barristan certain that while his own forgiveness had come about somewhat quickly, Jaime would face an even tougher path than he had walked to earn his.

When not speaking, his eyes would look to the Queen and her children. The young son she held in her arms once she'd eaten her meal, the daughter who sat close by and whose smile was infectious. He turned to look to the older son, the man he'd thought was to be his king and he felt that he'd have made a good one. Whatever traces of his father that he'd once seen in Prince Viserys were long gone. Rhaella wouldn't allow them to fester and Arthur had taken it upon himself to see the prince readied for his future role, whatever role that was to be. His thoughts turned to the king, to the boy who was far from their protection, and soon enough he wore a frown upon his face that was noticed by Arthur.

"Barristan?"

"The King, Arthur, I was thinking on the King," he said softly.

"He is well protected where he is, Barristan, loved too."

"Would it not be…"

"No, I've given it much thought these last few years, and more and more I'm sure the choice I made was the right one. He's safe, Barristan, safe and well and we can wish no more for him than that." Arthur said firmly.

"For now."

"Yes, for now."

Laying in his bed later that night, he dreamt of days to come. Of a war that would restore the true king to the throne and he prayed to his gods that his sword would not fail him on the day that war came to pass. He may have regained his place by the queen's side and restored some of his honor, but he'd not truly do so until he righted one last wrong. He'd not truly do so until he finally knelt for the king he should have knelt for and until he saw the Stag in the ground.

King's Landing 287 AC.

Robert Baratheon.

He found it hard to look at his son, joyful though he was in having an heir and in thinking of the things he and his boy could do when he grew. Thoughts of hunts and spars to come, of seeing Joffrey earning glory in the tiltyard and one day swinging his own war hammer at men in anger, was enough to bring a smile to Robert's face. Looking at his boy and seeing his golden hair and green eyes thought would only bring a frown to it.

When he'd first held him, he'd been reminded of his girl in the Vale, but only briefly. She had been dark of hair and blue of eye and looking into her small face had been like seeing his mother once again, whereas with Joffrey it was only his son's own mother he could see. Something which was not as pleasant a sight as it had once been if truth be told. While he'd never loved Cersei, that emotion saved for the only woman who'd ever made him feel it, he had been attracted to her. The years, her nature and simply laying with her more than once had taken the shine of that attraction and now he barely tolerated her. Still, she'd given him an heir and so mayhap when their son grew he'd look back more fondly on the mother.

For now, he had other things to think about, a tourney to enjoy and a new Kingsguard to find. This one was the price of the man he'd gotten to replace that turncoat Selmy. It had been Jon who'd pointed out the need for a message to be sent, one loud and clear and one that Robert found himself intrigued by. They needed a warrior of repute, a man whose legend was as storied as the traitor's was and they were few and far between, so Jon had suggested and Robert had immediately agreed on the one man who fitted, only to find him a reluctant recruit. Despite never liking it when someone gainsaid him, he had to admit to himself that when he was refused by the Blackfish it had made him only want him to wear the white cloak all the more.

"You honor me, your grace, truly. I had not thought to ever wear a white cloak before and I certainly never would have worn one under the Mad King, yet I must refuse."

"Brynden?" Jon asked, confused.

"The Kingslayer, Lord Hand, Your Grace. I could not serve under a man with no honor."

"Would that I could send him back to his father or remove the command I gave him." he began only for Jon to look at him "I know, I know, we've had this discussion. Tywin would have welcomed his golden cunt of a son back before I named him Lord Commander, now he'd do so but take umbrage at the same time."

"I cannot serve under such a man, Your grace." the Blackfish said and Robert knew he had to make him take the role.

"I can't change my Lord Commander, however, I can limit the time you need to spend with him and allow you to serve almost at your own pleasure, Brynden. I need good men and true around me. The Dragonqueen may have made a home for herself in Braavos but she'll not stay there long I wager and when she returns I'll need men of note to face those she has with her. So name another price and I'll pay it gladly." he said and though it took him some time, Brynden eventually did.

"You need good men and true, your grace and while I believe the Kingslayer not to be such a man, his skills are not in question, which is more than can be said for at least one of the men who serve you."

"Fucking Blount." he spat.

"Indeed. So that's my price, your grace. My service for his and the freedom to choose the man to replace him."

"A warrior true?" Jon Arryn asked and Brynden nodded bringing a smile to Robert's face.

"Then I look forward to the tales we share, Brynden, to having a man whose tales I'd like to listen to anyway,'' he said laughing loudly, thoughts of the Ninepenny Kings and others coming to his mind.

The man in question now stood at his shoulder while the Kingslayer stood behind the queen. While not quite a divide, both men were happier serving who they served and Robert cared not for propriety enough to insist that it be the Lord Commander who guarded his back. Especially not when he wasn't annoyed by the mere sight of the man who did so. Blount had been given a small keep and sent on his way, so they were still six. Robert knew though that both the Kingslayer and the Blackfish looked out on the field and sought the seventh, as did he.

Yesterday had been the archery and it was as boring as fuck, today it was the melee and it was anything but. Men from the Reach, West, Riverlands, and Vale. From the Stormlands, Crownlands, and even from the North had come to show off their skills. Though not the ones from the North he'd wished to see, much to his annoyance. He'd been angered by the raven and that he'd not seen his brother by choice's boy since he'd been brought before him after Ned had fallen. Though that wasn't all that angered him about the North at times.

"A fucking dragon egg?" he shouted as Varys amongst others looked at him warily "He lets Ned's boy walk around with a fucking dragon egg, has he lost his senses? Is the man a fool? He shames Ned so?`` His angry words were not questions and so they got no reply, not until he then directed them at the man who supposedly knew all "How is it that it's one of Jon's own Bannermen that tells me such a tale and not mine own Master of Whisperers?"

"I told no tale because the song I heard warranted it not, your grace," Varys said and somehow he didn't wilt under his glare.

"He has Ned's boy acting like a fucking Dragonspawn and you say it warrants it not," he shouted.

"The egg was found by the lad himself, your grace. Lord Stark had taken the lad to pay his respects to his grandfather, uncle, aunt, and father in the crypts of Winterfell as the boy does quite often." Varys began and Robert felt some of his anger be assuaged, it was good that they honored Ned and Lyanna so, for none deserved to be honored more than the woman he loved and his brother by choice "One day, an emotional one for young Jon by all my little birds have been able to tell me, his father's Nameday I believe."

A nameday that Ned had not been able to celebrate, that he had not been and as Varys spoke more, Robert felt himself drift off into memories of their days in the Vale and how they'd celebrate their Namedays, both doing so much differently. Ned would accept an ale or two and would even allow himself to get drunk, never though would he lay with anyone and when he did find his bed, it would be an empty one. Robert though, he'd find a willing girl to share his own with. Just thinking of it now brought a smile to his face and he looked to see if anyone had noticed, then heard that Varys was speaking still.

"Young Jon, found the egg himself, he believed it a gift from his father, Your Grace and so was most wroth when anyone dared to take it away for him. A fierce little wolf the lad is by all accounts."

"But a fucking dragon egg," he said less annoyed now.

"In time I'm sure Lord Stark will tell him the truth about such a thing, your grace. See him right and this would be a good thing in the end."

"How?" Jon Arryn asked curiously "How would this be a good thing?"

"When the lad finds out the truth about the dragons, Lord Hand, finds out the egg was not a gift from his father and if anything is something that dishonors him so, then he'll feel about them how he should, would he not? More so because of being mistaken about the egg itself? In time he'll, like all babes do, grow out of wishing for such a thing, but when he's older and learns the truth of his father's and family's fates at the hands of the dragons, this can only be a good thing, Lord Hand, Your Grace."

Robert hadn't really agreed with Varys' logic, Jon had more than he and so he'd set his Master of Whisperers to task regarding the North. In time he'd been proved right, the egg and Ned's lad were no longer attached at the hip, thank the gods, though soon enough he had other concerns regarding the North, concerns that needed answers. The ships and their dealings with the Sealord had been foremost of those concerns. Those had vexed him greatly as their own dealings with Braavos were kept to a minimum.

Were it not for the need for the Iron Bank's coin, they'd barely deal with them at all. Though he knew that others in his kingdoms and even his goodfather were less reluctant than he in this regard. He'd considered proclaiming Braavos as an enemy, denying anyone the leave to trade with them, though both Jon and Tywin Lannister as well as Stannis had dissuaded him of such. Yet it was the North buying ships from them that had concerned him the most and even after getting the letters from Benjen Stark explaining his reasoning, he'd not been convinced. Instead, it had taken the words spoken to him by Ser Wylis Manderly when he'd arrived for the tourney that had. Though those words had been mixed with ones he'd liked not regarding Ned's lad and his uncle.

"Ser Wylis, your grace." Ser Kennat said and Robert looked to Jon Arryn who sat to the side.

"Your Grace, Lord Hand." Ser Wylis said with a small bow of his head.

"Ser Wylis, take a seat, have you eaten?" Jon asked and when he'd said he'd not, food and wine were soon brought, both he and Ser Wylis indulging in both while Jon did not.

"His Grace had hoped to see Lord Jon and Lord Benjen, Ser Wylis, why have they not attended the tourney to honor the birth of his son?"

"Lord Jon took ill, Lord Hand. 'Twas but a heavy cold but the Maester feared the travel would put too much strain on him. As for Lord Benjen, he'd not leave his nephew's side when he was ill, Your Grace, not even to help honor you and your son. I mean this as no slight…" Ser Wylis said apologetically and Robert waved it off "But and if I may speak candidly?" Robert nodded and moved forward in his seat a little "Lord Benjen dotes on he lad, true enough he has his own lad now too, but he treats Lord Jon as if he was his firstborn son and not his nephew. I'd say he overindulges the lad, but only in attention, Your Grace, he's still of the North and it's no soft boy he seeks to raise."

Robert chuckled at that, he'd known many Northmen and had drunk, fought, and rode with them. Ned was no soft boy, nor was Brandon or any of the others he'd known. The North was just like the Stormlands, full of hard men of winter and not green boys of summer.

"Lord Benjen did send a gift for both your son and for you too, your grace. In honor of this auspicious occasion, he bid me offer his apologies and his hopes that soon enough he and Lord Jon could come to King's Landing, mayhap even should another tourney be held."

"In time, mayhap," Jon said.

"The Northern Fleet, Ser Wylis. I find it vexes me that the ships come from Braavos, that it's the Sealord himself that you seem to be dealing with in their purchase," he said to an annoyed look from Jon who wished him to be more circumspect.

"Aye, we worried it may not come across how it truly was, your grace. Lord Benjen said he wrote a letter explaining?"

"He did and it explains it little," he said annoyed.

"Then mayhap I can do so better. You know it's my brother that's been put in charge of the Northern Fleet, your grace?" Ser Wylis asked and both he and Jon nodded that they did "Lord Benjen has built a fine keep and docks, the Wolf's Lair, Your grace." Robert laughed at the name, "We sought to look to the East first, though the dangers we may face are from the West. The Iron Born reave as always, your grace, yet we felt it was for the best if we were warier of the dragons, especially after what Ser Arthur did. So it was east we looked and ships we needed quickly and for the best price so we could buy many of them."

"And the Sealord?"

"At first we were unaware it was him, then we wondered why he'd seek to sell to us. The ships were sound and we've modified them so should they think they were one thing, they'd find they're something else" Ser Wylis' words were welcomed by both him and Jon given the expression on his Hand's face "Then we heard tale that it was by land that the Sealord sought to expand and not by sea."

"By land, you say?" Jon Arryn asked curiously.

"Aye, Lord Hand. Braavos sees its future freeing slaves and so is looking inward more than outward. Men and horses, not more ships and so it seems they wished for coin."

"That sounds too good to be true, I know the dragons, Ser, I know what the Dragonqueen wants and it's not to free slaves." he declared.

"Aye, I believe you do, your grace. Truth be told, I'm with my father and Lord Benjen on this. I care not where we get the ships, only that we get the ships. I seek the North to be ready to repel all threats and the dragons are still the biggest threat we in the North face."

"That they are."

"We've since done deals with Lord Redwyne, your grace. We'll be buying more ships from the Reach. Though I must admit I do so love the irony." Ser Wylis said laughing which confused him somewhat.

"Irony?" Jon asked.

"Of using their own ships against them, Lord Hand."

He smiled as he thought of that, the dragons looking west and finding their own ships against him. Reaching for his mug, he drained the ale and looked back out to the field. There were few men left and he'd not seen much of the fights that had taken place. Now he watched them eagerly. The Greatjon was a monster of a man, though compared to the Mountain even he was dwarfed. He could see the Hound fighting against a man who was even larger than he. Ser Rolland Storm may be a bastard, but the man was a true warrior.

Lord Yohn Royce was as fierce as he had been at Harrenhal when he'd taken the victory that should have been Robert's own, while there was none of the Kingsguard in sight and he found he almost wished that the two men nearest him had taken part. Robert turned to his wife to see she looked bored and to his brother and Goodsister to see they seemed to be enjoying themselves. Though Catelyn bore an expression that suggested she'd wished to be elsewhere too and he wondered if she missed her daughter. Another thing that brought a smile to his face, since he'd won that particular wager with Stannis.

As the Mountain fell to the Greatjon, Robert looked to the Lords and Ladies of the Reach. Mace Tyrell's wife was a beauty and he wondered how the fat oaf had charmed her into his bed, though looking at the man's grandmother, it was more likely it had been Olenna who'd made that match. Seeing Tarly sitting and not competing was a surprise, as he'd have liked to see the Lord of Horn Hill humbled. He'd not forgiven him for Ashford, nor did he trust him or the other dragon lovers of the Reach.

"By the gods, he's good." The Blackfish said and Robert turned to look at Rolland Storm beat the Hound while the Greatjon and Yohn Royce fought like two men possessed.

"Is it just the three?" he asked to a nod from the Blackfish.

"It is, your grace and I think I found our newest Kingsguard."

"What say you, Kingslayer?" he asked a scowling Jaime Lannister.

"I'd have the Greatjon if it could be so, but, I agree with Ser Brynden. Ser Rolland would be a worthy brother of the order."

"See he's brought to me before the night's feast," he said as the Greatjon beat first Yohn and then after some time Ser Rolland.

He rose to his feet after the victor was announced, glad that Ned's lad had such a man to call upon when the dragons finally looked their way. As they moved from their seats, he saw the brown-haired girl and offered her his warmest smile, the look in her eyes one he knew all too well. It'd not only be a knight that received the king's favor this night he thought wryly as he walked to the carriage.

Winterfell 287 AC.

Benjen Stark.

Jon's nameday was always a bittersweet moment for Benjen. While he was happy celebrating his nephew and the joy this little lad had brought him in his life since he had first stared into his eyes, it was also a reminder of what he had lost. He missed his brother and sister, the grief of losing all his family was still present, and a part of him still blamed himself for what had happened before the Rebellion.

Benjen had been part of Lyanna's plan of disguising herself as the Knight of the Laughing Tree. He had been so proud of her when she unseated those three knights who had shamed their friend, but who knew what would have happened had he not given in on helping his sister? She had been put in danger because of their carelessness and Rhaegar Targaryen wouldn't have felt the need to go to her, save her, and then fall in love with her had she not.

"You know Lyanna was a stubborn sod. She would have done what she did even without your help. Aerys would still be after her, and she would have suffered much under him. She would have died by Aerys' hand, both your brothers and father would have sought to avenge her and the result would have been the same. The Rebellion would still have happened. The only difference it would have made is that we wouldn't have Jon today." Barbrey had told him once at a time he'd voiced his true feelings to her.

Benjen stared at his sister's statue, waiting for Howland Reed to finish paying his respects to her. He hoped she was watching over him and that she was satisfied with the way he was raising her son.

"Thank you for letting me do this, my Lord," Howland said, bringing him out of his thoughts.

"Please, Howland, call me by my name. We're friends, aren't we?"

"Of course, we are, Benjen. Even though I also came for lordly matters."

"Is everything well in the Moat?" he asked concernedly.

"The repairs for the keep are going well, as well as the building of the new crannogs. We'll have to talk about furnishing them later on."

"So, what is it?"

"Well, I would like to put forward a request for fostering," Howland said, surprising him somewhat.

"Isn't it too early to think of Jojen's fostering? He's but a babe!" Benjen frowned, making Howland shake his head and smile.

"I was thinking of fostering Meera."

"Your daughter? Are you sure?"

"Aye, She is of an age with Jon and I am certain she will learn more here to help the Neck, whether by learning martial matters or by having lessons with your Maester. As you know, we do not have one in Greywater Watch." Howland said warmly until he got to the bit about the Maester and their lack of one, while Benjen had always wondered why that was, now didn't seem like the time to ask.

"You want her to know how to fight? Truly?"

"We come from the Neck, Benjen. All of our women learn how to use a trident and a bow to hunt and fight. Meera will be no exception, and I know she will learn much more in Winterfell than at Greywater Watch. Moreover, it will bring the Neck closer to the fold. You already did much for us in your nephew's name, but for too long we haven't mingled with the rest of the North. The Mountain Clans and the Neck should not be isolated, for the North's sake."

"You have the right of it." Benjen nodded. "Very well, I will take your request into consideration."

"Thank you, Benjen. Truly, you're doing well. I know she'd be proud of you."

"Have you…" Benjen started, only to stop at Howland's sad stare, his heart clenched with sadness.

"Not since her passing, I haven't. But what is not to be proud of? You're taking good care of Jon, you have a family of your own, and the North is prospering under your regency."

"Some wouldn't agree with how I chose to raise Jon. My goodfather is all for joining the dragons so my children could become Warden." Benjen spat bitterly.

"The time for plotting is not, for now, my friend. The future is not set in stone, and it will be Jon's choice to follow the path he wants. I know you have a lot to do to protect him, and you're doing it well. That is all that matters for now."

Howland's reassuring words did soothe all of Benjen's worries. Even though he didn't like to think of the future, he knew his friend was right. As much as he wanted Jon to stay North under his protection and for his life to be as Warden, it would befall his nephew to decide his own fate in the end. The only thing Benjen could do was to prepare for both outcomes and the notion of a united North that Howland had mentioned stuck in his head, giving him an idea as he attended dinner and spoke to his wife, Howland, and Ashara regarding the lords that were present for Jon's birthday.

"All of them?" Barbrey gasped as she, Ashara, and Howland listened to his suggestion.

"All of them."

"Are you sure it is a good idea?" his wife asked.

"Well, you saw for yourself how fostering worked for my brothers."

"Aye, and I also remember my father constantly grumbling about how wild Brandon was when he lived with us. Have you seen them?"

"They are children, for now, Bey," Benjen answered, knowing that Jon's given name to his wife would mollify her. "They'll change in a few years."

"We already have three of them to raise. I do not mind fostering your child, Howland, as she is as well behaved as you are, but a Mormont? A WULL? You really want to host them all here?"

"I think it could be a very good argument to force Lord Bolton's hand," Ashara said suddenly. "By having a child of each of the main bannermen of the North fostered in Winterfell, his reluctance to send Domeric would be seen as a slight."

"I think it will do Jon good to make friends with his bannermen's heirs," he said.

"And Brandon too," Ashara added, to Benjen's annoyance. He knew what she was hinting at and sent a glare in her direction.

"So you mean to foster, in addition to Howland's daughter and my nephew…"

"One member from the Karstarks, Umbers, Mormonts, Manderlys, and one from the Mountain Clans as well."

"Have you any idea of the work we would have to foster that many children ahead of us?" Barbrey insisted.

"I am the only one in my family who hadn't been fostered. Even Lyanna had been sent to the Riverlands after Harrenhal. She made friends with her hosts, as Ned did with his foster brother and father, as Brandon did with your brother and yourself. I may have been more liked by some had I been. If I hadn't met Howland during the tourney, I would have nobody to call a true friend." Benjen declared truthfully. "I want to give my nephew, my son, what I never had. Is it such a bad thought? Do you not think we have enough people in our household to help manage them?"

"You don't have to foster them at the same time either," Ashara suggested. "Jon and Brandon will have to travel to the lands they'll rule too."

"Ashara is right, Barbrey. I plan to have my daughter back to visit so she doesn't get too comfortable and doesn't forget about life in the crannogs as well." Howland added.

"We can make it work. We will make it work." Benjen said with determination.

Whether or not these words or his conviction helped Barbrey reach a decision, he didn't know, but he smiled as he heard her defeated sigh.

"A Flint, not a Wull," she grumbled.

"Aye, they're kin anyway, so I'd rather have them here," he smiled.

"And you choose companions for Beth too. Not just for Jon and Brandon."

"Lord Manderly only has granddaughters, and Lyarra Umber is of an age with our daughter." Benjen pointed out.

"You really thought this through, didn't you?" Howland said.

"Of course I did. I've been taught to present all my arguments to these ladies in order to plead my case." he snorted, making the others chuckle and even his wife couldn't hide her smirk.

He'd asked Ashara to allow him to be the one to wake Jon up the next morning and to give him his gift. He wanted to give his nephew a reason to smile for the whole day, which for some reason hadn't happened much lately.

Jon was an intuitive boy who could catch on to the tension all around him, and Benjen hadn't missed how the interactions in the keep between Ashara and the Lords had affected his nephew. It had pained him to see Lyanna's boy grow up too quickly, Jon now using his lordly face to greet people that he didn't like. Since the incident with Hornwood in the sparring yard, which he had been told by his wife as he was speaking with Lord Manderly on trade affairs, he had seen him close himself off to those around him whilst getting closer to his supposed mother.

While his nephew seemed surprised to see him that morning, he quickly caught on to the reason for his presence.

"Is it today, Unle? Is it my nameday?" Jon asked excitedly.

"Aye, it is. I wanted to be the first to start the celebrations with our gift to you."

"My gift?" Jon repeated happily, getting out of bed quickly to put on his clothes for the day.

Benjen smiled as he watched his nephew's eagerness. His attitude was starting to remind him more and more of Lyanna and his heart sank at the thought that she would not be able to see her son grow up to be as high-spirited as she had been. He couldn't help but frown when Jon went to place Egg into its chest. As much as his nephew had managed to separate himself from the accursed thing during the day, they couldn't get him to stop sleeping with it at night.

They walked hand in hand towards the Godswood, Jon greeting the keep's inhabitants one by one by name and smiling more and more with each nameday wish. When they reached their destination, Benjen was pleased to see the effect his gift had on his nephew. Jon's gaze darted back and forth between him and the white saddled pony as if to check he had not been mistaken.

"You… You are giving me a lesson today?" Jon shyly asked.

"If it pleases you, nephew," Benjen said, smirking as he realized that Jon only thought of a ride as his present.

"Aye! It is a dream! Thank you, Unle Ben!" the boy jumped with happiness.

Children were so easily satisfied with little things. A little trip through the Godswood on a pony's back seemed like the best present in the world and Benjen was happy to play along, even telling some of the stories he'd heard as a child. Time alone with Jon was a rare occurrence and something Benjen had learned to cherish since the birth of his children. Not that he didn't want to spend more time with his nephew, but being his regent and having Brandon constantly tied to his cousin's hip didn't leave much room for them to share such intimate moments. He still made time to watch the boys chase cats and stand on one leg in the courtyard whenever he was in Winterfell. Benjen truly enjoyed seeing them being as close to each other as brothers true and he prayed this would always be so.

"Did you enjoy your ride?"

"It was wonderful Unle Ben! I can't wait to tell Bran about it! Oh… Will he not be sad because he was not invited?" Jon asked sadly and Benjen's heart warmed at his thoughtfulness.

"Well, you can always share your next ride with him. You will have to ask Aunt Bey for permission to bring him, but since the pony is yours, I think there will be time aplenty to-"

"WAIT! The pony is mine?" Jon yelled, his grey eyes shining with excitement.

"'Tis your nameday gift from your Aunt and I. Lord Ryswell chose him for you and you only."

"Truly, you're not japing?" Jon asked, looking at him with wonder.

"It is a huge responsibility to take, Jon. You will have to care for him and look after him, and you will have to choose a name for him." he tried to say sternly, but couldn't keep a straight face looking at his eager nephew who kept nodding energetically at each of his requests.

"Thank you, Unle Ben! I have to thank Aunt bey too! And Lord Rodrik! '' Jon exclaimed before hugging him tightly.

Benjen's heart soared with joy looking at how happy his nephew was. Nan used to say that Winterfell was brightened by Jon's smile, even during a stormy day, and he could feel the truth of it throughout the rest of that day. The gifts his nephew received from the Lords and Ladies only made the boy happier. A new pelt from the Mormonts, storybooks from the Manderlys, and wooden carved toys from the Glovers had especially grabbed Jon's attention during the feast that night. His nephew had been spoiled, by Northern standards, yet everyone could feel their gift had been appreciated and the gratitude a four nameday child could not feign had seemingly won the heart of those attending. So much so that he had been surprised by Roose Bolton's request for a meeting the next day.

Roose was not an amiable man. The Leech Lord always managed to unnerve him, his seemingly placid attitude made Benjen wary while his moon light eyes watched the world with a calculation that the Regent of Winterfell liked not. Yet he was other than Lord Manderyly his most powerful Bannerman and so he needed to be treated accordingly. So Benjen welcomed him to his solar and did his best to put aside his true feelings while he did so.

"You request an audience, Lord Bolton?" Benjen started, offering him a glass of wine only for Roose to shake his head and Benjen then cursed himself remembering now that it was Hippocras that was the Leech Lord's drink of choice. Calling for a servant, he soon rectified his mistake and received a smile that bore no warmth for his reward.

"Aye, my Lord. My goodfather wishes for me to send Domeric to foster with his cousin and he guarantees me that it would be beneficial to me to do so. As I recall you made the same request on your wife's behalf, but I do wonder why my goodfather seems so intent on sending him here rather than to the Rylls?" Roose questioned.

Benjen inwardly cursed at his goodfather and thought he would need to have a conversation soon enough with Rodrik Ryswell.

"While I cannot speak for our goodfather about his motives, I would gladly foster Domeric should you agree to it. I plan to foster more heirs in Winterfell, as Howland Reed too has requested for his daughter to learn with our Maester in two years' time."

"Meera Reed? She will not be heir to Greywater Watch. Why not the son?" Roose inquired.

"Maybe later for Jojen himself, but Lord Reed plans to have his daughter learn of the North to help her brother rule his lands when his time comes. As you know life is different in the Neck, and Howland thinks it would be a good thing to strengthen the bonds between Greywater Watch and Winterfell."

"By marrying his daughter to your nephew, mayhaps?"

"That is not in order, and I know for one that Howland is not an ambitious man." Benjen retorted.

"Have you thought about a future bride for my nephew? A betrothal for my niece?"

"They are too young for that. But I do think fostering is a good opportunity to see what can be done. We will foster boys and girls from the main houses of the North." he said to a small almost imperceptible nod of Roose's head "Do you have a bride in mind for Domeric?" he added as nonchalantly as he could.

"As you said, he is far too young for this at the now. I do however think you have the right of it concerning the opportunity it would entail, Goodbrother." Roose said, the glint in his eyes and his mention of their familial ties unsettling Benjen.

"Call me Benjen, please, Goodbrother."

"Roose, then."

"So, you'll agree to send Domeric to Winterfell in a year or so, Roose?"

"Under a few conditions, aye, I do."

"I am sure we will manage to find a common agreement."

They'd talked about Roose's requests, all of which were reasonable ones. He wished his son to be knighted in the future, which given both Ser Rodrik and Ser Symon being here allowed for even more easily than the Rylls did. While Benjen was glad to have reached an agreement with the Lord of the Dreadfort, he felt there was more at stake than what they'd settled so far. Something he spoke to his wife about later that day.

"I don't like your goodbrother." he quickly said to his wife when they were alone in their rooms.

"What did Roose say to make you wary of him?" Barbrey frowned.

"It's more what he didn't that worries me. Is there any chance your father told him something he shouldn't have?"

"Father does not trust Roose, especially after what happened with Bethany," Barbey said and Benjen could hear in her voice just how hard it was for her to think back on her sister's death.

"Yet he insisted for him to accept our offer. What if he told him something -"

"I will ask him, but I am pretty certain he would not. He was just trying to help." his wife interrupted.

"Still, Bolton is up to something. He implied betrothals when we talked about fostering."

"He's looking for a bride for Domeric?" Barbrey asked, surprised.

"I think he has his eyes set on Bethany."

"I see…"

"You don't seem surprised by this?"

"Well, our daughter is the best prospect in the North, Ben. It is bound to happen. Besides, we will need to think about it soon enough."

"You're already thinking about marrying off our little girl?" He said, stunned.

"I was also thinking about Jon."

"No!" Benjen exclaimed vehemently.

"'Tis the way of the world, husband. No matter how we want to change things, alliances are what prevent wars and put food on one's table."

"I don't want more of my family to suffer the same fate as my brother and sister. I'll not have them being tied to people they wish not to marry and which then prompts them to do stupid things to avoid that fate. Lyanna and Brandon are proof enough of where that road leads" he snapped.

"We didn't want to marry each other. Look how it turned out. Is it so bad?" Barbrey chuckled.

"We've been lucky, Bey," he said softly, calming somewhat.

"And Bran and Beth will be too. If they marry into the North, then they'll know of their betrothed from a young age thanks to your suggestion. They may even decide on them for themselves."

"You haven't mentioned Jon." he pointed out, frowning when his wife sighed loudly.

"'Tis different and you know it. With the dragons lurking, we may not have the choice but to ally with someone from the South. Whether or not you want to help them reach their goal will determine who will be Jon's bride."

"You've already thought this through, have you?" he scoffed.

"Would you think me awful if I had? He is my nephew too and I care for him. For his well-being. Jon is Warden, and while I would wish for him to find a good Northern bride… I don't think Robert Baratheon will leave us any choice in the matter either."

"You think he would -"

"He will try to have Ned's son tied to his family, assuredly. He has no daughters to offer Jon, but he has a niece."

"Catelyn's daughter?"

"As much as I hate the thought of having that woman tied to our family… Cassana Baratheon is not someone to easily discard without a thought."

"Who else is on your list?" he wondered.

"We should talk about it another day. You're obviously tense and you will not like where this conversation is heading."

"Which means you're thinking about the Tyrells." Benjen snorted while she smiled fondly.

"Today was a good day. Do not let Roose or the others cloud it," she said, kissing his cheek before bidding him good night.

He had trouble following his wife's advice, his thoughts about betrothal and alliances getting the best of him. Was that how his father felt when he thought about his children's future? He always vowed not to behave as Rickard Stark had regarding his children. Benjen's father was not a bad man nor an unloving father. He was as strict as was expected from a Warden of the North, yet neither Benjen nor Brandon or Lyanna understood his want and need for a southern alliance. Now that he was in the same position, stuck between plots for the good of his nephew, he wished he could understand his father's motives better. Mayhaps then he would be able to make the best decision. Maybe then he'd not be so afraid to repeat the same mistakes which had cost House Stark greatly.

King's Landing 287 AC.

Cersei.

Her precious little boy was perfect, absolutely perfect. Each time she looked at him, she would think so. The smile would come to her face unbidden and before she knew it, she would be seeing the future that Joffrey had in front of him. Cersei would see him be crowned, watch him as he became the king the realm needed, and her pride in her son would grow and grow. Or that's how things were the first few days, weeks, and even moons of Joffrey's life.

Eventually though, and she'd admit this to no one, she grew somewhat bored with her new babe. Why that was, she wasn't truly sure, other than Joffrey seemed to have a constant need for attention. Hers, the servants, the wet nurse that she had never expected to use but had ended up feeding her precious boy even more than she had. All of them would scurry and pander to his each and every need and soon it became tiresome.

Was it because he was a boy?

Was he just like all men, weak and needy?

Would a girl of hers be different or the same?

Did she even want another babe?

The questions would pile up in her head and she found that she had no wish to seek the answers to them. Her husband she knew wished for another babe and had even practically raped her to try and put one in her belly. No matter to Robert that she'd not yet recovered from Joffrey's birth or that he'd hurt her terribly when he'd not taken no for an answer. He was as spoiled as Joffrey was, as all men were, and wanted what he wanted when he wanted it.

It was because of that night that she and Jaime had to wait so long to lay together once again. Her brother had been wroth with her husband and had she just given him the word, then Jaime would have killed yet another king. It had been a boon to her heart to hear him speak the words and to know they were true. As it had been to find that it was both that she'd not recovered from the birthing of her son and her husband's own oafish ways that had been why she feared laying with a man again. For the moment that she and Jaime were intimate once again, the old feelings of pleasure that he always wrung out of her had returned.

"I will kill him for you, just say the word and I'll see him dead."

"Not today, my love."

There was no doubt in her mind that his words had helped inflame her desire for him. Just as when she watched him spar did the same. Her brother was a man of action, a warrior even more dangerous than her husband believed himself to be. Cersei had no doubt that had it been Jaime that Robert had faced at the Trident then it would have been Robert Baratheon who bled out in the river, not Rhaegar Targaryen.

Turning her mind from her son, brother, and husband, and from the man she had wanted more than any, Cersei looked out to the field and watched as the two horses raced towards each other. When she was younger she loved to watch jousts. She, like the rest of the ladies of the land, would preen and flutter their eyelids at the knights almost begging them to accept their favor. Her own would be worn, as it would be today, by her brother and Cersei would know that despite the wishes of so many, more oft than not it would be her who was named as the Queen of Love and Beauty.

"Except at Harrenhal." the voice would say and Cersei as always fought it down.

Now though her heart wasn't stirred how it had once been by knights and jousts. Mayhap because she'd been crowned more times than she could count. Instead, she took her pleasure in seeing other women be disappointed when their favors led only to defeat. She reveled in knowing that despite their wishes and wants, there was only one queen, her. Smiling to herself, she turned to look at those in the crowd to see who'd be disappointed this day.

The Roses had come out in force, Fat Mace, his insipid wife Alerie Hightower, and the withered old cunt Olenna Tyrell were all sitting in places of ill favor. While she had grown to hate her husband with a passion, she enjoyed how he belittled or ignored the Roses and the rest of their Bannermen. The Reach had always thought far too much of itself and believed themselves to be on a par with her father's own Bannermen, they were very much not.

The savages from the North had only one knight who jousted amongst them and he was even larger than Mace Tyrell was. Ser Wylis Manderly would win no garland here today and like her husband, she bristled over the fact that the Starks had dared not to attend. That was a slight that she intended to pay them back for one day. Turning her head, she looked at the Riverlords and Stormlords sitting together and her lips curled almost into a snarl. Her eyes sought and soon found the red hair of Catelyn Tully and her snarl only grew when she did so.

"You look beautiful, your grace."

"What a handsome babe, he'll be as handsome as your brother when he grows I dare say."

"What good fortune that my daughter and he were born so near to each other."

"I look forward to seeing them both grow, your grace."

The words bothered her then as they did now. Cersei was affronted that the fish actually dared to even dream of a daughter of hers being queen. Oh, Catelyn Tully had not dared to say so, but Cersei knew what was in her mind. She knew what it was that she wished for and she'd not allow her precious boy to be tainted by the stench of fishes. All the woman's efforts to ingratiate herself with her had failed miserably. She'd been polite and had feigned interest in what the woman would speak on. But embroidery, ladies' mornings, teas, that would not be her life, and even were she forced to accept attending them, it would not be at Catelyn Tully's behest.

Not even her father's wishes could make it so. Cersei had tuned him out when he'd spoken of Joffrey's future and of the potential matches that could be made when he came of age. Her son was not yet off the teat and her father would see him married off if given half the chance. Her eyes of their own accord sought and found her father and the snarl she'd worn when looking at Catelyn Tully, was soon back on her face.

"Had Jon Stark been a girl or had you birthed a daughter then I've no doubt that Robert would seek a betrothal." her father said.

"I'd not betroth my child to a bastard." she snapped.

"He's not only your child, a king's will outranks a queen's."

"I care not, I'll not wed a child of mine to a damn northern bastard, king's will or not," she said angrily, thinking of what may happen should she have a daughter in the future.

"You will do what is best for your House, always what is best for your House above all else. And right now your House holds the throne. I will see that it does so for longer than the dragons, for that will not be our fate, on that I vow." her father said firmly and while she welcomed knowing it wouldn't be the dragon's fate that befell her son and herself, she still liked not where his mind was going, nor where it went next.

"I'd seek it to be Margaery Tyrell if I could sway the king's mind, I'd set you to the task if I believed you could." her father sounded disappointed "Alas, nothing anyone says will see Robert allow the Roses a queen. It leaves few choices and mayhap the gods have already chosen for us."

"Father?"

"Cassana Baratheon. Through her, the old alliances are renewed, and other than if the Starks birth a she-wolf, there is no one else of note."

"Wolves, why are you so damn keen to wed my child to a Northern wolf," she said angrily.

"Because unlike you, I think of days yet to come." her father said dismissively.

That had been it, her father's words were spoken mere days after Joffrey had been born, and though he'd not repeated them word for word, he had repeated them. This time with the addition of Bethany Stark's name thrown in the mix. A Wolf or a Fish, Lion's deserved far better. Looking to Catelyn Tully who sat a few seats away from her sister, the thought soon came to mind that her daughter would look just as she did. Cassana Baratheon was dark of hair though, blue of eye. Yet on the few occasions that she'd seen her, Cersei had seen her mother in her. While Catelyn Tully herself was nowhere near Cersei's own beauty, she knew men named her as beautiful. Had Cassana gotten her mother's red hair, she would probably be a true beauty compared to what she looked. Feeling a shiver run down her spine, words from long ago came to her mind once more.

"Queen you shall be, until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all you hold dear."

No, she'd not allow it. Better a Rose or even a Wolf for her son. The Starks held no beauty in their features, their long faces and dull hair were not what bards would sing songs about. None from their line could ever be described as bearing the beauty that she named her own. Better a Northern Wolf than a Southern Fish. Wasn't it? Her mind was troubled still as the day's jousting ended and though she attended that feast that night, her heart wasn't in it.

She knew her husband was shaming her as always, yet found she couldn't care or even consider it. Conversations were held with both the Tully sisters, yet for the life of her she knew not what words she spoke. Were it not for Jaime's concern when he took her back to her room, along with the fact that her husband had sought his fun elsewhere, then her night's sleep would have been as troubled as her day had been. Instead, he'd wrung every ounce of pleasure out of her that she had to give. He exhausted her, fulfilled her, and left her sated enough to sleep and not to dream.

The next day, she spent watching him as he rode and knocked knight after knight on their arses. Other than mayhap her father, no one was prouder of his accomplishments than her. Her thoughts were now on the crown that he'd gift her soon enough and the looks of disappointment on the faces of the ladies in the crowd. When the final tilt came, she moved forward in her seat as Jaime lined up to face off against Yohn Royce. The crowd hushed as the two horses raced down towards each other, Cersei's eyes were on how well her brother rode, how firmly he held the lance and she held her breath as the sound of it crashing against the shield rang out. Four times they rode before a winner was decided, then she sat smiling as she watched Jaime ride to where the garland was laid out.

Around her, the world had faded away. It was her and him alone. The only two people in the world that truly mattered. Her love, her twin, her other half. When he raised his lance it took her from the small daydream of the crowning she was having and to the truth of that crowning. She watched the garland as it slid down the lance and then caught it in her hands as Jaime's voice rang out. To her ears, it was as if he sang her a song he'd written only for her. A song that she'd wished had been sung to her by a silver-haired prince a few years earlier.

"I would name you the Queen of Love and Beauty," Jaime said, yet it was not he that she heard, nor was it King's Landing that she believed herself to be in.

It was Harrenhal and it was the day the smiles ended. A crown that was given to a woman that was not her and as her hands shakily placed the crown on her head, she heard the words again.

"Younger and more Beautiful."

King's Landing 287 AC.

Catelyn Baratheon.

No brothers were more different than the Baratheon brothers. At least that was what Catelyn had learned in all these years living with Stannis. Entertaining her youngest Goodbrother had only made it clearer, as even Renly showed a much different personality than his older brother. He was as exuberant as Robert was, always smiling and charming others with his witty replies, yet unlike the King, and surely because of his age and Stannis' supervision, Renly was more measured with his words and polite, which Catelyn appreciated.

She was horrified every time she had to spend time with King Robert, who clearly was as self-centered as he was crass with the women around him and disrespectful to his wife. Catelyn would have pitied Queen Cersei if the woman herself wasn't insufferable, and she wondered if the Lioness' coldness towards the King wasn't the cause of his attitude.

"Jon told me that Robert does as Robert is." her sister had once told her after Robert had mocked Stannis in front of the court. "He was already a wild one during his fostering at the Eyrie. I guess you got the best of the lot, as usual." Lysa's bitter tone had become something she'd heard more and more lately.

Thinking of Lysa made her heart sink. She could feel the tension growing between them, especially since her sister's last miscarriage. No longer did she want to spend time with her, nor Cassana, whom Lysa had doted on after her birth. Her daughter's health and vigor were a constant reminder of her sister's failure to bring a child to life. But while Catelyn could empathize with Lysa with the losses she felt, she wouldn't trade her babe for anything in the world.

Cassana was a bright child, who loved hearing stories and being by her father's side. Catelyn loathed the day she would need to go back to Storm's End without Stannis, who had asked her so a few days ago.

"Did I do something to offend you, my Lord?" she asked worriedly.

"No, not at all, dear wife."

"So why are you chasing me away?" she asked, her voice betraying the hurt she felt at that moment.

"We've been away from the Stormlands for too long. Soon my brother will take his seat at Dragonstone. I think he needs to spend some time in his birth home before moving elsewhere."

"Send him there with Ser Davos! Why do I have to leave the Red Keep? Why can't Cassana and I stay here too?" she asked, annoyed.

"We are not meant to stay here, Catelyn."

"You are Master of ships."

"I am also Lord Paramount of the Stormlands."

"You are needed in the Red Keep and my place is beside my husband. If you're staying here, so am I," she said determinedly.

Stannis let out an exasperated sigh and shook his head.

"I know life in court seems better and more rewarding than life at Storm's End, but I will not leave my people behind and subject my daughter to Robert's antics."

"The king -"

"Would that I could relinquish my title without insulting my brother and risk my head, I would do so gladly." he interrupted her to her shock. "I am at the end of my tether here, Catelyn. Neither Robert nor Jon Arryn listens to my suggestions, and my brother keeps insulting me and my incapacity to make an heir. I need distance from him and to get on with my duties towards the people of the Stormlands, before I say or do something I will regret."

"I understand, husband," she said, putting her hand on his shoulder to bring him some comfort. "If you need time away, then we will go back to Storm's End. But we will have to come back, else you're showing your brother that what he says affects you too much. He will call you weak, and you're far from being so."

"I just… Need time away." Stannis sighed. "This rancid smell is getting on my nerves and I do not think the constant bad air coming from Flea Bottom is good for our daughter."

She had simply nodded and accepted. Catelyn had no wish to get into her husband's bad side and so she instead promised herself that she would find a way to convince him to take her back with him once the time to come back to the Red Keep had arrived. Stannis was a stubborn man, but he was also a second son stuck under the shadow of his older sibling While Catelyn had never experienced this herself, being her father's firstborn, she had learned than letting her husband vent his frustrations to her and praising his qualities afterward were the best way to deal with his insecurities.

Lysa had looked so gleeful when she announced her departure after the end of the tourney that Catelyn had been hurt by her sister's attitude, but she had said nothing in fear her husband would use it as another reason for her to stay in Storm's End. Only her uncle, who she was proud to see wearing the white cloak of the Kingsguard, seemed affected by her leaving. They had grown accustomed to eating together when he wasn't on duty, and being with family and seeing how far they'd all risen was a source of joy to her.

Two of three of Hoster Tully's children were married to Lord Paramounts, one being the king's brother. His heir was set to become the next Lord Paramount of the Trident, and his brother had been named a Kingsguard. She knew her father was proud of what they had accomplished so far, but that like herself, he could see that they could rise even further.

"'Tis a blessing that your daughter was born so shortly after the Prince. I take it as a sign that they should grow together, as cousins." he said during a family dinner before the tourney.

"I do too, father. I know they will turn out to be great friends."

"I hope they will be more than friends." Hoster retorted. "She is the future king's cousin. A good and true prospect for a match for him. More than could be said for the other babes from other lesser families."

She nodded in agreement, yet she didn't feel as confident as Hoster was. Especially considering Robert's former link to the Starks. Thankfully those fools were, according to Stannis, threading on thin ice with their dealing and trading with Essos. Catelyn couldn't fathom how they could be stupid enough to treat with the family who had ended their own, and she was now glad her father didn't force her to marry Benjen Stark, who to her mind seemed incompetent on most points. The bastard he was raising and his whore of a mother seemed to have had a bad influence on the North. So while sometimes she wished that Robb was there to take what was his. Now upon seeing those frozen lands were desperate enough to ask the dragons for ships and coin was something that she was more than happy not to be associated with.

"Have you heard how much King Robert raged that Jon Stark hadn't come to celebrate his son's nameday?" she asked Lysa casually, smirking as she thought that their refusal to come to King's Landing would soon put them as out of favor as the Tyrells.

"I did, I've also heard he was ready to plan a trip to the North to see how Ned Stark's child was growing," Lysa added nonchalantly, making Catelyn tighten her fist under the table at her former husband's mention. "Thankfully, Jon managed to dissuade him with the tourney and all it entails, but who knows how much longer he will be able to stop the king."

"He is right to keep an eye on the North, though. They are prospering much quicker than we thought possible. I heard they found copper and iron near their newest keeps and were about to do even more trade with the Reach." Hoster said to her surprise.

"Let them do so. This will only turn the Crown further against them. King Robert's hatred for the Reach is well known, but we shouldn't be surprised by the North's lack of awareness of what is proper or not." Catelyn noted smugly.

"Still, iron is something useful for all of Westeros, not only the North. It will be a boon for them if they manage their mines well." her father said.

"It's the North we're talking about, Father." she scoffed.

"Exactly, and their unexploited resources were part of the reason why we wanted you to be the Lady of Winterfell. You ought to remember that, Catelyn. Do not sell them so short." Hoster said curtly, making her tense and her sister smirk.

She spent the rest of the second day of the tourney entertaining Renly, who was more than eager to attend the jousting and watched with amazement as Ser Jaime won the day. Catelyn glanced at the Tyrells' stand, smirking at their picture-perfect family. They might look united, more than the royal family and hers, but this would do them no good in the grand scheme of things. King Robert despised them and she knew that the man could hold a grudge for a very long time.

The feast held later that night was as sumptuous as the previous one, mayhaps even more since a Lannister was the guest of the night. Ser Jaime strolled into the hall as if he owned the place, his arrogance making the other ladies swoon when he walked past them, but only making her huff in annoyance.

'If only they knew how much of a prick he truly was. He and his sister were truly made of the same cloth.'

Catelyn did her best to mingle and talk with everyone she encountered and to avoid the Tyrells as much as she could, yet the Queen of Thorns seemed to want to ruin her mood even more that night.

"Lady Baratheon. I hear you are leaving us soon?"

"Yes, Lady Olenna. We are leaving in two days. My husband has obligations in the Stormlands and -"

"Yes. Obligations. Of course." Olenna said and she didn't miss the mocking tone she took. "A shame, we won't be able to have some tea before you leave."

"I would love to, but I have to prepare for our journey. You know how life at court works, the men of the council work tirelessly to rule the Seven Kingdoms and us wives must do all the rest." Catelyn replied haughtily.

"You should be happy for the respite Lord Stannis will give you by stepping away from court, then. Yet you seem all but happy."

"Well, I'm most distraught to leave my sister here -"

"Do not worry, my Lady. the court will remain the same with or without you as part of it. I'm certain Lady Arryn will have no time to miss your presence. You know, with all she has to do being the Hand's wife." Olenna's mocking tone was even more apparent now.

Catelyn clenched her fist at the unveiled insult, not wanting to cause a scene. Thankfully the woman left and she was then joined by her sister.

"You do not seem well, Sister," Lysa said as she joined her and Catelyn was glad to see the concern in her sister's expression.

"Who does that woman think she is?" she sneered.

"You mean Olenna Tyrell?"

"She has no idea how life at court functions, yet she has the audacity to tell me I will not be missed," she answered through clenched teeth.

"The old hag is out to rile you up, Cat. More so since she cannot get at the people she truly wants to upset, you're the next best thing for her to do so."

"Did she try something with you?"

"Not only did she try, but she also succeeded," Lysa said softly.

"What did she say to you?" Catelyn asked, affronted on her sister's behalf.

"Nothing that is unfounded, unfortunately. Olenna Tyrell is skilled to hurt people only with the truth." Lysa answered bitterly, leaving her sister dumbfounded at the implication beyond her words.

She hoped that she had misunderstood, that her sister was not saying that she would not miss her while she'd be gone. It hurt her to think that Lysa's inability to conceive would be the thing that would turn Lysa against her. So when she went back to her rooms to silently cry about the growing distance between them, she also gained strength by holding her sleeping daughter in her arms.

This was her future. Cassana and nothing else, and she would endure each and every hardship, she would overcome every single hurdle so that her daughter would become the one to stand at Prince Joffrey's side.

She steeled herself the next morning, as she, Stannis, Renly, and Cassana were invited to break their fast with the King and Queen. This in itself was something short of a miracle, as they never spent time with both at the same time, and Catelyn thought it was because of their upcoming departure. Which in turn made her most happy as it was a sign of an acknowledgment from the Crown.

When they arrived at the Queen's room, she barely welcomed them before sitting at the end of the table. She was as amiable as usual and made no effort to make them feel at ease. King Robert was late, obviously, and Catelyn could see Stannis fighting the urge to enquire about his brother. Judging by what they both had seen during the feast, he surely had not spent the night with the Queen.

"I was hoping to see Prince Joffrey, Your Grace," she said both because she had truly wished to and to begin a conversation.

"And why is that, my Lady?"

"So he and his cousin could play together. It will be the last time they'll see each other for some moons."

"Joffrey was sleeping and I didn't want to wake him up for such trivial matters, my Lady. Moreover, my son doesn't enjoy listening to the stories you love telling your daughter, so I think you would only waste your time and his." Cersei said, offering her that false smile that she reserved for people she felt she was forced to talk to.

"I understand, your Grace. Do you know when the King will join us?" she asked, mustering as much innocence as she could feign and she rejoiced internally when seeing the queen flinch.

"You know how he is, Lady Catelyn. The King is never late, time has to wait for the king." Cersei said annoyed.

"But I thought -"

"Let us not play games here, Goodsister." Cersei cut her off curtly, spitting the last word as if it scorched her lips. "You've been at Court long enough to know my husband's manners by now. It is unfortunate that he would not make time for his brothers, indeed, but this is how Robert is."

Not waiting for an answer, Cersei picked up some fruit and put it in her mouth, smirking as Catelyn saw the downcast attitude of her husband and goodbrother. The Lady of Storm's End was fuming, yet what could she say to the Queen?

'Mayhap if you were willing to do your duty, Robert wouldn't feel the need to sleep around and shame us all.' the thought came and she found she much enjoyed it when it did.

She couldn't understand why Cersei wouldn't sleep with her husband after Joffrey's birth. For all that Catelyn heard about, judging by all the women that came back to his bed, Robert was not an inexperienced lover. She wasn't particularly fond of sex herself, but Stannis made it pleasurable and she had loved being left with child by her husband, the feeling of bearing yet another life had made her seek his bed more oft than naught. Was that why Cersei didn't want to sleep with Robert? Did she hate being with child? Did she think that by having her heir that she had done her duty?

She was arrogant enough to think so. Having an heir was fine, but her father had always taught her that a spare was even more important. Edmure had been the heir and Catelyn the spare, even though he was the last born and she the first one, and looking at what happened throughout their lives and the Rebellion, she was set to birth at least two more children. Cat though knew better and that she and her husband would yet need at least an heir and a spare.

Before she could lose herself more in her thoughts, the door opened with a bang, revealing a red-faced and grumbling Robert.

'My brother pesters me to do this, so here I am. Let us get on with it." The king was clearly not in the mood for anything family-related today.

"Renly is leaving tomorrow, Robert. You haven't spent time with our younger brother at all." Stannis pointed out curtly.

"Then I would have dinner with him! Why did it have to be this early in the morning?"

"'Tis almost time for lunch, your Grace." she managed to say, smiling as best as she could.

"Then we should have done this for lunch!" Robert exclaimed loudly.

"You were the one saying you would be busy training at lunch, brother." Stannis retorted.

"Oh, piss on that! I'm here and starving. Let's eat. Renly, did you like the tourney?"

"I… Yes, it was… The tourney… The jousting…" poor Renly, who wasn't used to Robert's outbursts, struggled to articulate his thoughts.

"And here I thought you were more like me than our dour brother!" Robert taunted, making Stannis tense. "How about your training? Are you doing it well or do you prefer books like this one over there?"

"Ser Cortnay says I will become a great knight soon! I am almost ready for tourneys, and you'll see, I'll make you proud, Brother!"

"Oh, I know you will! I'll put a wager on you when you"ll start jousting." the king cheered.

"You will? Truly?" Renly asked excitedly, while Cat watched her husband do his best not to react.

"Of course! I may have to forbid my Kingsguard to participate that time, though. We can't have them cost me money by beating my little brother!" Robert laughed boastfully, making Renly deflate.

"Already crushing our brother's dreams, I see. How typical." Stannis scoffed.

"The boy should know by now that life is not easy," Robert replied before drinking a mug of what had to be wine much to her disgust.

"He knows. He learned it four years ago when he was starving and waiting for his brother to come and help him." Stannis retorted curtly.

"Not this again, Stannis." Robert sighed loudly. "You wanted us to have a nice family moment, and as usual, you're spoiling everything."

"My apologies, Your Grace," Stannis said, yet she knew by his tone that he meant it not.

"By the Gods! You cannot even stand up for yourself! No wonder why you can't bring a boy to the world, you spineless, useless excuse for a man!" Robert grumbled, making Catelyn gasp in shock.

She expected her husband to blow up, but Stannis was truly as different from his brother as day and night. Both of them were the perfect example of their house's words, but where Robert's fury was explosive and all over the place, Stannis' one was a simmering, silent one. He stood up, his body shaking with anger, and his fists whitened by how much he was restaining himself.

"Forgive me, Your Grace, but I find myself having no appetite. Catelyn, we're leaving. Renly, you can stay if you want." Stannis coldly said before turning away from the table.

She rushed to her feet, curtsying quickly before following her husband from the room. Part of her was proud of him for standing up and leaving when both of them had been insulted, but she worried it would prove even more difficult to have him come back to the Red Keep and she cursed herself for suggesting this family moment.

Catelyn watched in silence as Stannis began packing his things, his fury was still clear in his moves and she couldn't help but feel a little scared of him. Not that he would lay a hand on her, that was far from his character and not what she was afraid of.

"You should spend the rest of the day with your sister, Cat," he said coldly. "You may not see her again for a very long time," Stannis said before moving away off to do she knew not what.

This was exactly what she feared, and she knew it would take long discussions if not straight manipulation of his feelings towards the king to see her back to the Red Keep. For she would not let them forget her and her child. Even if everything worked against her, she would see Cassana grow close to the Crown, the Seven be her witness. Cat would not rest until she saw her daughter crowned and until Cassana sat next to her husband in the Throne Room as the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

Dorne The Water Gardens 287 AC.

Oberyn.

A tourney. He wished for them to attend a tourney to celebrate the birth of his son. The sheer nerve of the man. His spear flew through the air and caught the straw dummy square in the chest. For more than an hour, he'd tried to control his anger at the words the raven's scroll contained, and yet it was to no avail. Sparring, going through his forms, hitting things, none of it was enough to quench the fire that burned inside of him.

"AHHHHHHHHHH!" he shouted out loudly, the need to let loose and do something, anything, almost threatening to overwhelm him.

Were it not for the babe she carried, then it would have been Ellaria that came to offer him comfort. Had they been quicker, then it would have been one of his older daughters. Instead, it was his youngest one. Elia moved quicker than any of the others, her little legs had begun to move the moment he'd thrown the spear. Be it for her desire to be lifted in her father's arms or knowing he needed his anger assuaged, he knew nor cared not.

"Papa." he heard her little voice call out to him and he bent down and swept her up in his arms, her laughter soon ringing out loudly across the sparring yard.

Two Namedays old and she was already as fierce as her older sisters. He tickled her, made her laugh even more, and then peppered her face with kisses.

"My little snake," he said as he hugged her tightly.

The fire inside of him had not been put out, but it had retreated for now. Seeing his daughter's smiling face, hearing her sisters as they arrived to join her and as he gave each of them as much attention as he had Elia, all was enough for now. Oberyn moved to Ellaria and kissed her cheek and then after he helped his paramour to her feet, it was to the pools and to watch his daughters and the other children play in them that they made their way to. Just watching them as they splashed in the water and as he drank some wine was enough for him to remain calm for the rest of the morning, it was not a calmness that lasted the entire day.

After eating with his family, it was to Doran and his solar that Oberyn found himself walking. His brother was soon to face the fury of his anger. Not that he was angry with his brother, just that he needed to vent and speak his mind. With a nod to Daemon and then a quick look to Areo, he entered the room and before he had a chance to speak, Doran did so first.

"No more. I'll hear no more words on the Stag, Falcon, or the Lions. Dorne will not attend this tourney so what care I or it for what happens there." Doran said irritably.

"He celebrates the birth of his son while my niece and nephew…"

"They were my blood too, lest you forget." Doran interrupted.

"I seek blood, my very soul calls out for it."

"And it will have it will it not? But not today."

"Nor tomorrow. It will be years until Viserys is old enough and Rhaella makes her move."

"Then we still have much work still to do, do we not?"

"I…we are but a week away from her nameday, brother. She would be as old as Sarella were she to live still, Aegon would be as old as Quentyn, and as for our sister….."

"I know, brother, I know," Doran said, rising to his feet and placing his hand on his shoulder.

They stood silently for a few moments, the two of them lost in memories of their fallen kin, and were it not for Doran turning his thoughts back to the kin who lived still, then who knows how long they'd have stayed there for.

"My wife tells me you've been most remiss, brother, when was the last time you spent time with your nephew?" Doran asked playfully.

"Why it must be at least a day or more, brother," he replied to a chuckle from his older brother.

"Then come, let's think not on King's Landing or on a Stag whose time will come."

He spent the next few days trying to do as Doran suggested. Ellaria was growing ever closer to birthing their babe and his words that he cared not whether it was a boy or girl had finally gotten through to her. Oberyn watched as Arianne played with his girls and as Quentyn fought with his new brother Trystane for his father and mother's attention. Yet more times than not his own thoughts turned back to those who should be here but were not and to the vengeance and justice that he sought for them. Vengeance and justice that had brought him to a court in exile, a queen he'd never known, and a king yet to be.

Three years earlier.

After the wedding, it had taken him a few days to be invited to meet with the queen. During that time, it was those with the queen that he found his eyes drawn to. He'd seen both Jon Connington and Barristan Selmy at the wedding, though the latter had since not been around much to Oberyn's surprise. Ser Willem Darry along with other men he recognized from the Red Keep were now part of the Queen's inner circle. Men he later found out had been amongst those rescued from what was to be a life in servitude at the Wall of all places.

Ser Jaremy Rykker and Ser Alliser Thorne were good men and true and Leal more than most to the Targaryen cause. Yet in truth, it was none of these men that he wished to speak to or seek answers from. He had been well aware that Arthur Dayne lived still. Dorne had somewhat celebrated his killing of the quiet wolf Eddard Stark, but both he and Doran had very much not. It was not some tower in Dorne that the Sword of the Morning should have been guarding and had he been where he was meant to, then who knows what world they'd find themselves in now. Be it by Rhaegar's side on the Trident, which would have meant a Stag would have fallen and not a Dragon. Or by Elia's side in the Red Keep, which would have meant that his sister, niece, and nephew breathed still. Yet it was by a Northern Whore's side and not by his princess or his prince's that Arthur Dayne stood and Oberyn wished to know the why of it.

"Her grace will see you now." Ser Willem said as he led him through the Sealord's Palace and into a solar where the queen and Arthur Dayne both waited.

"Your grace." he said respectfully "Dayne," he said very much not.

"Careful Oberyn. Ser Arthur may accept a sight aimed his way should I will it so, but I very much do not. So before we begin, speak your words and do so knowing full well that I find no fault in Ser Arthur's actions or whereabouts during the rebellion."

"Your grace?" he asked confused, wondering why she'd not blame the man as he did.

"I was where my prince wished me to be. Knowing what happened, I believe most truly that it was where I was meant to be and where, given the chance to do things once more, I'd be once again." Arthur said simply.

"Not by my sister's side? By my niece or nephew's? Not by your prince's side?" he asked angrily.

"No. I was where I was meant to be and that's the last I'll speak of it. Insult me, blame me, think ill of me, I care not. My heart is not troubled and my queen's opinion is but one of two that matters in this regard. Neither you nor Doran are the other."

He wanted to rant, to rave. A part of him wished to take his dagger and stab the man he'd once named a friend in the neck with it. Though even in his anger, Oberyn knew that he'd not make it close enough to do so. Skilled as he was, Arthur was better than he, much better. Still was he not here on his brother's behalf, then he may do so anyway, as it was he took his seat and held his tongue, for now. One day, however, he and Arthur Dayne would have more than words.

"I bring an offer of support from my brother and Dorne," Oberyn said.

"One with a cost no doubt," Rhaella replied.

"We lost as much as any in the rebellion, your grace. Aegon would have been king one day would he not?"

"He would."

"Then we seek a crown for our spears. My brother has a daughter, you a son…."

"No."

"No?" he asked, unsure he'd heard Rhaella right.

"No." Rhaella insisted "I'll not offer what is not in my power to give. I cannot guarantee a crown even with Dorne's support. A marriage I'll accept, but more than that, no, not for the now."

"My brother has a son too, Quentyn, he and…."

"My daughter's hand is not on the table Prince Oberyn, it never will be. I may be willing to give up my son's hand as I understand the need for such, but my daughter will not be forced into a marriage not of her choosing, not now, not ever." Rhaella said firmly.

"We seek Dornish blood on the Iron Throne, your grace. Dorne sought two agreements for our support and yet you deny us the latter and refuse to agree to the former," he said more curiously than angrily.

"I have already explained that I cannot give what is not mine to give. However…..you may take these words back to your brother. Should the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms one day know a Targaryen king again, then in return for Dorne's support, a Dornish Queen is promised."

"My brother and I look forward to that day coming to pass," he said offering a warm smile.

"As do we all, Prince Oberyn," Rhaella said.

Water Gardens now.

Doran had found the words perplexing and had seen more in them than Oberyn himself had. They'd sat and watched as the Realm's rifts began to be made clear. As the Reach was ostracized and the North grew, and the West only gained in their influence. They'd watched and waited and had done much to restore Dorne to what it had once been.

Trade, coin, they needed both and so it had been east they'd looked. The queen helped them a little in this regard, though they had and would need to expand even more. They were relatively unscathed from the rebellion itself, they'd lost good men, his uncle amongst them, but not many men. Yet it would not be enough, they and the queen alone would not be enough. Not even with Braavos by their side would it be enough.

As he stewed over the tourney in King's Landing, Oberyn found his thoughts going to others who may feel as they did. To the Reach and to the House of the Rose. Mayhap it was time for him to travel in Westeros once more, or mayhap it was time for him to seek out old friends in Essos. He knew not which road he was to travel and so he sought advice from the one man who knew such things better than he, he once again made his way to his brother's solar and once again readied himself to do as Doran bid.

Braavos 287 AC.

Ser Arthur Dayne.

He dodged away from the sword, hiding a smirk as he did so. At one and ten Namedays, Viserys was turning into an excellent swordsman. His student was diligent and focused and reminded him so much of the tales that Rhaegar would speak of his own training. Arthur remembered fondly the talks that he and his brother by choice would have about him going from a boy interested only in books, to one who wished to learn how to wield a sword as well as any in the land. Fighting off the thought that it had not been enough for him in the end, Arthur instead concentrated on the spar and the lesson he wished to impart.

Unlike his brother, Viserys, while studious in his other lessons, truly reveled in these ones. Arthur felt that by the time they truly looked West, there would be few able to match the young prince. For now, he still had much to learn. So after a couple of feints and leaving a deliberate opening, Arthur readied to deliver a painful lesson. When Viserys fell for it, Arthur brought down his sword hard on the prince's wrist.

"Ouch."

"Never do what your opponent wishes you to do. Today your wrist aches, another day you'd have lost the hand."

"I thought I'd got you," Viserys said disappointedly as he rubbed his wrist before bending down to pick up his fallen sword.

"Next time be sure it's a certainty and not a thought before you try so again," Arthur said and Viserys nodded.

After he checked to make sure that he'd just caused some initial pain and nothing lasting, they then drank some water before going through forms and stances. Eventually, the morning's lessons came to an end and they made their way back inside the Sealord's Palace. While Viserys went to his room to check on his dragon's egg before breaking his fast, Arthur went straight to where they held their morning meals.

He was the first to arrive and it took some time for Ser Willem Darry, Jon Connington, the Sealord, Queen Rhaella, and Princess Daenerys to join him, Arthur smiled when he saw the young prince in his queen's arms. Prince Maekar's birth had been an easy one according to both his queen and the Maester they used, Marwyn having found their way to them a few moons ago. At first, he'd been wary of the strange man, but over time he'd won him and the rest of them over. His communications with Rhaegar were unknown to any of them, as were the letters he shared with Maester Aemon at the Wall, but his interest in magic and dragons was something his queen felt made him useful. Especially when concerning the dreams that the princess would have from time to time. Dreams he was about to get yet another example of as they broke their fast.

"Aems got a pony, mama," Daenerys said casually as she ate her morning meal.

"He did?" Rhaella asked.

"He did, can I have one?"

"Are you not too small, my love?"

"I'm big like Aems, mama, like Vis," Daenerys said as firmly as a three-nameday girl could say.

"But not like Maekar?"

"Meks is small, mama." Daenerys giggled.

"But he'll be a big dragon one day."

"A big dragon," Daenerys said before her attention turned back to her meal and her other brother who had just entered the room.

"Good morrow, my son," Rhaella said greeting her oldest child.

"Good morrow, mother," Viserys said, placing a kiss on his mother's cheek before taking a seat.

Arthur loved these little moments first thing in the morning. They acted like a family just the same as any other, even if they were very much not. There would be no talk of future plans or current events, instead, it would simply be how each and every one of them was doing, what was on their minds, and what their plans were for the day ahead. They'd sit, eat, laugh, and then go their separate ways until it was time to meet up again for lunch, dinner or simply to spend time with each other. Rhaella he'd found would take time out of her day to sit and play with Daenerys or to listen to whatever it was that Viserys wished to speak on. He'd even seen her stand by the window of the nursery and hold Maekar in her arms as she sang softly to her youngest son.

When the meal ended, he nodded to Qarro and looked on as the Sealord kissed his wife and son before walking from the room. Then he waited for his queen to decide their own next steps. The Septa came to escort the princess to her lessons and Viserys left with the wet nurse and his brother. Viserys, when he'd naught else to do, would spend his time acting as another guard for his brother and it was something that Arthur believed he'd do not just because of being protective, but to practice for a future role with his nephew.

Not that it would be as a Kingsguard that Viserys would serve Aemon. The queen had much loftier goals in mind for her oldest living child. With a look to Jon Connington and then to him, Rhaella rose to her feet and he took his place behind her and Willem as they walked to her solar. Playtime was over and it was time to get to the true work of the day.

"Send for Marwyn, Ser Willem, I needs must speak to him about Maekar's egg."

"At once my queen." Ser Willem said as he went off to do the queen's bidding.

"My son fought well this morning, Ser Arthur?" Rhaella asked as they walked.

"Most well, my queen. I believe he took my lesson to heart."

"Good. Ensure he takes them all to heart, as my grandson is in his own with the First Sword no doubt."

He smiled at that and was still wearing that smile when he and Jon Connington took their seats in the queen's solar. Syrio Forel fought like few men that Arthur had ever seen. Not even Qarro Volentin, who'd taken his place by the Sealord's side, was a match for the man who'd stood there before him. Arthur could beat him, but only just and it required all his concentration and skills to do so. With him and Richard Lonmouth both protecting and training Aemon, it allowed Arthur to accept his own absence from doing either. It would at times bring a smile to his face too when he imagined his own fist spar with his king or Viserys' first one. Were he a betting man, he'd not take a wager on whether either of them would be a match for Aemon in time, not given the words that Syrio had said to him on the day he left.

"Too old I was when my training began. A man older than the young prince and even more set in my ways. Would that I had been a boy such as the king when I learned to chase cats."

"Chase cats?" he asked while shaking his head.

"You do your stances, your forms, but you forget that it's a dance. A dance of death. Best you learn where your feet move before you ever step on any toes when learning to dance is it not.?"

He didn't hear the door open nor Marwyn and Ser Willem enter. So distracted was he in his thoughts of Syrio Forel and the king that had it been an attempt on his queen's life, he'd have failed in his duty. Though he knew that Ser Jaremy stood no more than twenty feet from the queen's solar and that Barristan was with him, while Jon Connington was in the room acting not just as a Master of Whisperers as well.

"What word from the Wall, Maester?" Rhaella asked as soon as everyone was seated.

"My good friend, Aemon, tells me that he's felt something he'd not for some time, my queen. A stirring in an egg that has long remained dead to the touch."

"The Butterwell Egg?" Ser Willem asked.

"Brought to the Wall by Bloodraven himself according to my good friend. I believe the timing lines up, my queen. The egg first stirred when Prince Maekar was born."

"We need it brought here, Jon can your men…"

"I'll see it done, my queen."

"Good, now tell me about the Ironborn," Rhaella said.

He listened as Jon Connington spoke of the growing discontent that the reavers were feeling under the Stag's rule. How Balon was not his father's son and how he sought far more than he had. Arthur almost laughed aloud to find that they were part of the reason for that discontent. The reavers had found that with Lucerys Velaryon as their Master of Ships, pickings in the Narrow Sea were few and far between. In providing security to their and the North's trade, they had limited what ships were available to be plundered. Cause and effect now working in their favor once more.

"Do we expect them to rebel?" the queen asked.

"They will rebel, my queen. The only question is when."

"Would that it was later, Jon, much later. Alas, it is what it is. Make sure that those we wish aware are aware and let's see if we can't force their hands somewhat. It'll be a failed effort on Balon Greyjoy's part, but it'll be interesting to see who holds truest to the Usurper and whether or not we're in the right of it."

"Of course, my queen."

"Aemon, your grace," he said and Rhaella nodded.

"Indeed, Arthur. Send word to Lady Ashara and Ser Richard. Make them aware that this threat is looming and see that they take every precaution to ensure my grandson's safety."

"I'll send the letters today, my queen." Jon Connington said.

"Now speak to me of my grandson's future kingdoms."

Later that night, he ate dinner alone in his room. The day had been a long one and while three of the Kingsguard slept, he soon would join them. While he agreed with the queen that the king should name the other three members of their order, it left them somewhat short to have only four. Especially now that there were two princes, a princess, and the queen herself to be guarded. Along with Qarro, he'd picked the best men from both their guards, so when not guarded by a man in white, it would be numbers along with skill that kept the royal family protected.

He'd much rather they could split the guard, have a Kingsguard on duty day and night, but without the numbers that was impossible. Men needed to sleep and while he could rotate, he found for now this way was better. Finishing his meal, he undressed and climbed unto his bed. The dreams soon came to him, of Rhaegar, Lyanna, and their son. Dreams of wars to come and battles to be fought, dreams of a man wearing an antlered helm and wielding a hammer, and of rubies falling into the water. Yet the one he remembered when he woke the next morning was of dragons flying in the air and a king dancing out of reach of a stag's fury.

A/N: Thanks to all who've read and reviewed. Up Next: We jump forward a couple of years to where the burning of a fleet leads to war and to a confession between an uncle and his nephew. Truth is revealed which changes things at Winterfell and in the East, the Dragons grow ever stronger.

For those following my other fics, Live as a Wolf is up next followed by the Dragonverse.

King of Summer: Yeah it would need to be done so very early, the biggest issue with that is it almost comes across as a bit of a deus ex machina when you don't show it, so you'd need a really big prologue to explain the North's rise. It's why sort of showing it as logically as you can in the story works better IMO. Here, for example, it'll be a 15-year rise, and so needed some boosts to get it started, hence the pact and the Targs doing their part. I do like the spitting of the kingdoms though, a divide when done right can work well. There are a couple of fics, unfinished unfortunately where Jon is KITN and the targs are south of the Neck which allows for some fun parts. There is one really good one where he was pretty much screwed over after the War for the Dawn and is so very bitter about it. But again it's unfinished.

Daryl Dixon: So very glad you enjoyed it.

Nagiten: It is yes, I think I got mixed up with missing his wife and enjoying a warm bed and so it came out all jumbled, but yes that's what it was meant to be, a warm bed. You see more of what Barristan did here, basically, he pretty much set things in motion with the Holy and with Jon's spy network, even forsaking his honor to do so. I was sort of going for a little of the test that Dany gave him in the books when he revealed himself.

Sidryuu: I have a little thing planned with the Direwolves, a sort of in-story reason for why they'll appear differently here, and yes, earlier. Glad you're enjoying things so far.

Zhovrak: Considering that literally no one even looks his way for 15 years is the entire premise of the whole R+L=J thing, like no one even suspects it ever, then other than Ned dying, it's sort of the same thing here. Yes, there are things more blatant and which should get eyes looking their way more, but also people see what they want to see too. Ned's word was enough for literally no one to ever question Jon's identity, if you can buy that premise then his last words spoken as he died should hold just as true to the same people. Here at least there will be questions, as you see regarding the egg and will see to come, but actions and explanations to allow the lie to keep being told are forthcoming also. One last point, Ashara naming Jon as her son so publicly, saying that she and Ned slept together and Jon is the result, along with Howland telling Robert that this is so, there is even more of a reason for them to accept it than simply Ned's word in canon and him refusing to name Jon's mother.

Again though, certain actions will allow the lie to be sold even more until it's not.

Tankuser: No I actually wrote it the way I meant it, it was to be taken literally how it sounded. While the phrase is forgiven not forgotten, what I was trying to say and what Rhaella was saying was that she can forget that he betrayed her, or somewhat pretend to, but she'll never forgive him for doing so. Rather than forgive him and not forget if you get me. Now I know logically it makes no sense, but it was supposed to come across to show that Rhaella cannot and will not ever forgive Barristan for kneeling so she's instead somewhat blanking it from her mind, forgetting it, so to speak.

Dunk: Given the preview for the next chapter you may get your wish. The interrelationships are key here, Barb/Ash are friends but not friends in a way. Or almost reluctant friends in that Barbrey still sees Arthur when she looks at Ashara and even Rhaegar too so it's hard for her to let that go, but on the other hand, they like each other. With Brandon, him being so close in age to Jon would allow for them to be closer than Robb/Jon even in some regards. Especially since there is no stain of bastard to come between them or no Cat. With the Strategies, that's exactly it, on one hand, they're on the same page. Both Benjen/Barbrey want to see Jon and the North safe and secure, so they accept the aid, but on the other, neither of them has come around to Jon going for the throne, so they're not fully on board. While from Rhaella's perspective, she is happy to help the North because it helps Jon, but her goal is her goal. At some point, they'll either come together or break apart. With Loras, my one qualm about it was that it may be too much Dragon Cub, but Jon has others around him here and so the relationship won't be the same, and I have some other plans for Loras in the North. As for Olenna, you'll see soon enough.

Celexys: We're doing another jump next and after a few chapters in that timeline, another one to come, so we'll be moving swiftly and in a couple of chapters we'll really see how the North has developed too.

The Last Northumbrian: I'm trying to get the older stories back up and running, Live as a wolf this week and hopefully Different Song to finally reach its concussion very soon. I've so many other ideas I want to get working on, so I want to put a few to bed so to speak. The Dark Prince will be updated far more regularly from now to the end which is still some way away.

Thrandull: No don't ever think that you've pushed something too much. I welcome suggestions and because of yours, we've decided to use House Dustin as a plot point later on. A member thought dead will be reappearing and causing some issues with the succession plans, forcing the need for them to adapt, which while a minor point, is still hopefully going to be a fun one. So you'll get your wish, no death to House Dustin, and had you not raised it, then it may well have not come to pass.

Keb: We'll see more of Jon's true training in the chapters to come and his first pov will enlighten us about his relationship with Egg. With Barbrey's daughter, she'll be a mix somewhat of Arya and Sansa but basically based more on what Lyanna or Dacey Mormont are meant to be, a Northern Lady who is comfortable in britches or in a dress. Now she'll not be as fully a warrior as Dacey, nor as full a lady as Sansa was, but more a combination of both. More like Alys Karstark or one of the Manderly girls.

Cheryl Pollock: No worries, glad to hear from you again. You're very right regarding Rhaella and we will see that being addressed in chapters to come. In regards to Aemon, the lines of communication between him and Ash or him and Rhaella are sound, he's too clever for that. But yes, they are taking risks, however, actions and explanations will be forthcoming to alleviate some of those risks in the minds of Robert and others. Especially over the next few chapters. When Robert and Benjen will actually meet up once more.

Scarilla: I funny enough always imagined that Ashara had some training, given who her brother was. So we may see some of that. In regards to Ser Richard or Ser Symon as he is known to those around him, you just saw the benefits of his presence here. Cat would never allow Cassana to be trained any differently than she would Sansa, while Brandon/Beth so very will be.

Literary Consumer: I've said before that there is so much variation available within the confines of the canon we start with. Be it Rhaegar winning or a million other different possible variations that change the story each time. While I'm obviously a Jon fan first and foremost, I wanted here to have others be the driving force, then for him to take center stage when the time is right. Benjen gets so little love that it's fun for me to show him as he grows to be a true northern lord, something we'll see examples of in the chapters to come and as for Barbrey, she only ever gets painted one way, bitter. So I wanted to do something different with her, also a northern lady running the north allows for so much. I'm really glad you're enjoying it so far and we have some fun twists and turns to come. Even in the main pairing with Jon/Margaery, it's not going the same way people may think.

The Sphynx: Love the poem as always. Loras is somewhat a nod to Dragon Cub, though I hope I show him different enough here that it doesn't just end up being copied and pasted.

Poseidon 300: Thanks so very much.

Xan Merrick: Thanks, my friend. Ghost will be along much earlier than canon, so you may get your wish. We'll see a lot more of Syrio in the upcoming chapters as we start to show Jon's pov and we'll get little insights into his training too. I have a way of introducing the Direwolves early that I feel makes sense, so we'll see if that works.

Em1624: Thanks so very much for such kind words, it means a lot that you're enjoying it, truly.

14omega: We wanted to almost have it that at first she was sort of torn between both just doing her duty and that she had feelings for Jon, here you see a little more of it and we'll see more to come.

Guest: We could, we won't though lol. We need to see the growth of both Jon and the North so that when suddenly each or either is able to do a certain thing, I'm not just pulling it out of my arse and making it so. Too many modern movies and tv shows do this, where the protagonist is just able to kick arse without doing any training or walking a path to do so. Here with the North, it's the same thing. They're weaker than other kingdoms in terms of coin and strength, so for them to be stronger, you need to show how that came to pass. We're entering some action-heavy chapters next and we'll be doing some jumps in time, but the growth, both physical and emotional all has to be shown too.

Lilhavowi: We have some interesting things to make things harder here, some future events that will allow for things to go a certain way. In regards to Olenna, I'll not say which way we're going because of spillers, but I will explain our reasoning once we go a certain way.

In regards to the face-slapping moment you suggest, there is one of them in our plans a big one and a key one, a very specific relationship in fact. But I can say no more than that.

One of the key points of this story however is that even more so than Canon where Olenna would do as you say, here that option of waiting for Robert to come around is off the table. He would never give Marge a crown, never, he hates the dragons even more here and their supporters are beneath his contempt. Olenna is well aware of that as she's an astute player of the game, but even she's not looking at Jon for Marge as of yet. More she's still playing the angles. Politically, we hope to do more here, to show some of those divisions and maneuvers and we'll be showing some other houses, also we intend to do more politically with Essos too. I hope not to make it too easy, the plans we have laid out we believe won't allow it so and Robert here is a much different sort than normal so there is that too.

Also, please feel free to offer up any critique you feel warranted. I welcome them as they make me think and consider things, I may not always agree with them loll, but I do welcome them, so please don't hold back if you feel the need to say something. People do influence my writing, their comments do stop me from becoming too close-minded and tunnel vision from being all I can see with, so please your thoughts are most appreciated.

Lawkeeper: Benjen vs. the IB though would force him south. Given Jon too, he'd not refuse the call. But since it's the IB even more so. So the North will play a role, a larger role than canon. In regards to Rhaella, it wasn't truly something she considered, more an angered reaction to Barristan. As you say, she knows better, but I wanted her to be emotional too.

So with Barb and maybe this didn't come across, certainly it didn't since you brought it up lol. But basically, it wasn't meant that way, at least on our part, but now you say it, I can see your point. Basically, she was differentiating between Ned/Brandon. Because in her head they're much different and the relationship she had with both makes her think of them that way. Brandon could never be Other Brother so to speak, she'd speak more affectionately of him (even though now she doesn't because of Benjen) whereas, with Ned, she blames him for William's death, so there is much less affection in her tone when speaking of him.

That's what we were going for, but yes, no you point it out I can see why it came across differently, it's something we'll take note of in chapters to come.