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.

10. The Light That Shines Brightest

Pentos 290 AC.

Rhaella Targaryen.

Hearing the extent of the Stag's victory over the Iron Born had proved Rhaella right. The time wasn't at hand for them to make their move and so instead, she began to consider other ones. Their sellsword company, The Holy, was ever-growing, and while not yet even a quarter of the strength of the Golden Company, under Bon and with what Barristan had already done for them, in time they would be. Lucerys had kept and added to their fleet. Now making it a match for the Arbor's or close enough that it would nullify them at least. As with the Holy, their fleet would grow far stronger in the years to come and would be joined by her husband's fleet when needed.

Her children were growing up how she'd wished them to. Dany was the light of her life, a daughter that she'd always dreamed of having. It was why Rhaella could never sell her off as she would do with her sons and her grandson. Women suffered at their husband's hands, while men very rarely did so at the hands of their wives. Not even Dany being a princess would save her from a cruel and callous man, as Rhaella knew all too well. So it would fall to Rhaella to do so instead. Viserys would be matched in Westeros with Princess Arianne. Maekar with a powerful family in Essos, though which one she knew not yet. As she had sacrificed for the restoration of their House. So too would the male line for once.

Thoughts of her children and grandson were never far from Rhaella's mind, and even now on this journey to Pentos, she found herself both wishing they were with her and yet glad they were not. They were safe in Braavos. 'Safer than they had ever been in King's Landing' she thought angrily. Yet another thing that she would see changed before she left this world for true. For never again would a dragon fear anyone or anything if Rhaella could help it. Shaking the thoughts from her mind, for now, Rhaella took one last look at herself in the looking glass and then rose to leave her cabin on the Braavosi Princess. With a nod to Ser Barristan and a look to Ser Alliser, she walked up the few stairs and out onto the deck.

"All is prepared?" she asked, the Bold.

"As you commanded, my queen."

"Then let us make our way to see this Magister and hear his proposal."

The palanquin was elaborate as befitted a man of the wealth of Illyrio Mopatis. While the escort he'd sent her showed how much he valued her safety. Not that Rhaella would trust him or any other man with that ever again, though her husband had shown and proved himself to be a much different man than Rhaella had feared he may be. Ferrego had fussed and worried over her and sent five of his own ships to join the seven that sailed with Rhaella on this short journey. His message was one that Rhaella had no doubt was heard loudly and clearly.

Harm my wife and earn my wrath.

There had been a time when such a thing would have filled her heart with joy. Now, while she welcomed it and the fondness that they shared, Rhaella saw it as no more than that. The only love she had left in her heart was the love she held for her children and grandson. That young and sweet girl she'd once been and who'd once dreamt of gallant knights or read tales of great loves was long since dead. Rhaella both mourned her and very much did not.

Outside of the palanquin, Illyrio's twenty Unsullied were joined by a hundred of Rhaella's own guards. While along with Ser Barristan and Ser Alliser, as well as the other two hundred men aboard her ships, Rhaella was well protected. Back in Braavos, Ser Arthur would see to her children's safety. Rhaella content that both he and Qarro Volentin would be a match for anything short of an army. Though given the number of men that Rhaella and her husband had to call upon, they had an army of their own just in case. It was the only true comfort that Rhaella took in being so far away from her children's side. The only thing that allowed her to close her eyes and not fear the worst. Even should she fall, they would be safe, and that in truth was all that mattered.

Not that Rhaella had any intention of falling, mind. Far from it. Through sheer will alone she'd ensure that she was there when those who'd betrayed and attacked her family paid for their crimes. She'd see her grandson crowned king and see more grandchildren and great-grandchildren be born. Rhaella would be there to see her House rise once more and once they were safe, once they'd collected all the debts that were owed to them, then she'd rest and relax. Then and not until then.

"We're here, my queen," Barristan said, helping her out of the Palanquin.

"We were not followed?" she whispered.

"Watched but not followed, my queen," Barristan whispered back and Rhaella nodded.

Mopatis' manse was quite simply huge. Rhaella doubted there was another that matched it in Pentos, other than mayhap the Prince's own. Still, it left her unimpressed. Rhaella had grown up in the Red Keep and on Dragonstone. Now she made her home in her husband's palace. Since coming to Essos, she'd visited Volantis and seen some of the palaces behind the Black Walls. This manse paled in comparison to all of that, though it still didn't stop her from acting as if she was far more awed by what she saw. Something that seemed to please the large obese man who looked her way and was most eager to greet her given his expression.

"Welcome to my humble abode, my queen," Illyrio said as Rhaella tried not to pull her hand away from his fat fingers or show signs of her distaste when he brought her hand to his lips.

I'll be lucky to still have five fingers remaining given how hungrily he looks at me.

"I thank you for the welcome, Magister Illyrio. Though to name your home as humble is to do it and you a disservice."

"You honor me, my queen."

Practiced charm was nothing new to Rhaella. Over the many years, she'd first been a princess and then a queen, and so she'd used it often. Rarely had her charm been more than that other than when she was with people she actually liked. As Illyrio offered her his arm, Rhaella tried not to think that at times like these she wished she was as charming as Aerys was. Which was not charming at all, as well as not caring whether anyone thought him so. Aerys, her dearly departed husband, Rhaella almost laughed at naming him so, may have been mad as a man could be, but the fear of waking his dragon had meant that no one would dare tell him he was acting as anything but a king.

Walking, listening, and yet not to the man beside her, Rhaella took in more and more of the manse's decorations. While outside she'd been unimpressed, she could not say the same about the interior of Illyrio's home. Myrish Rugs, and tapestries, all done in lace and silk. Gold fittings. Paintings that must have cost a pretty penny and showed either a much younger Illyrio or a far more idealized version of how the man saw himself. The manse's walls, floors, and rooms were filled with enough wealth to make even her husband sit up and take notice. So Rhaella bid herself to do so in his stead.

"Your home is quite beautiful, Magister."

"Call me Illyrio, my queen."

"Only if you do me the honor of doing likewise, Illyrio, and naming me Rhaella."

"Rhaella." the fat man said wistfully and Rhaella shuddered at the thought of what foul notions were going through Illyrio's mind as he did so.

Soon enough they had reached a large room with two giant couches and countless chairs. Illyrio led her to one of them and Rhaella was relieved when he sat down on the other. Though she could have done without the sight of his bloated belly shaking as it settled when he took his seat. Food and wine were sent for and Rhaella allowed Barristan to bring her food taster forward, something that Illyrio seemed at first put out by, then later impressed with.

After the young lad had taken some of the food and drank some wine, Illyrio too ate and drank to show her there was no ill intent on his part. Rhaella, however, still ate sparingly which was more than could be said about the man sitting across from her.

"Your man said you had an offer to make me, Illyrio. One that bid me to travel to you rather than have you come to speak to my husband and me."

"I'm afraid my traveling days are far behind me, Rhaella. That is why I made the request and inconvenienced you so. I would beg your forgiveness for that."

"There is naught to forgive, Illyrio. Pentos is not a place I've visited before. So I welcome the chance to do so now."

"I'm relieved that you feel that way."

"Your offer, Illyrio," Rhaella said, wishing to move this along.

"Forgive me. I have a child, Rhaella, a boy. He is of an age with your daughter, Princess Daenerys."

"And?" she asked, though she knew full well what the man wished for now.

"In time you will look west once again, will you not?" Illyrio asked though Rhaella didn't answer. "When you do you'll need even more men than you already have in your service or can call upon."

"I'm unaware of any men you have in your own service, Illyrio."

"Other than those you see here, there are few."

"Then I understand your point not."

"The Golden Company, Rhaella. In exchange for a marriage between your daughter and my son, I shall bring you the Golden Company." Illyrio said, far too proudly.

She wished to deny him right away. Nothing about his offer pleased her and yet a man who could bring the Golden Company to bear was not a man to be insulted outright. So Rhaella asked for, and was most happily on Illyrio's part, to be given more time to consider her answer. Then asking for leave to change and refresh herself after such a long journey, Rhaella accepted the offer of a warm bath and placed men outside the large room that led to the manse's bathhouse.

Soaking herself in the warm water, she lay back with her eyes closed and thought more about Illyrio's offer. If things had been different, had she not wed Ferrego and Aemon didn't exist, then she might even consider the offer more truly. With the Golden Company added to their ranks they'd be more than a match for Tywin Lannister and Robert Baratheon's armies. Rhaella could even sell them using them and not have them be seen as a foreign force invading Westeros.

If she truly needed them, then she may even reconsider her wishes in regard to Dany. The truth, however, was that she didn't really need them. The offer would be rejected and she'd task men to keep an eye on Illyrio Mopatis and his son. In time, one or both of them may need to fall and Rhaella would have no compunction in seeing that through. She may not wish for it, but she'd do it nonetheless. What she'd not do was sell her daughter for men or coin. Not even for a throne would she do that.

Lannisport 290 AC.

Tywin Lannister.

Sitting at his desk in his solar, Tywin contemplated on the upcoming tourney. The preparations were complete and the tourney that he was to host would be one the realm would look at with wonder and awe. No expense had been spared and yet Tywin had no true plan to give away too much of his hard-earned coin. For he had no doubt that Jaime would win the joust and take the day for House Lannister, while Clegane would be unmatched in the Melee. Tywin could even forgo the fact that Robert Baratheon would sit in pride of place and not himself. Though he'd not lie and say he didn't bristle a little over that fact.

It was not the only thing that he'd bristled over these last few days. The acceptance from the Regent of the North of Tywin's invite was something that he'd not expected. Though given it had been in Winterfell and not Casterly Rock or King's Landing that Robert Baratheon had chosen to celebrate their victory over the Iron Born, mayhap he should have. 'Gods' knows the Wolves received far too many favors from the king and the crown than they deserved as it was.

Tywin was still not over his annoyance that somehow Benjen Stark had managed to get Robert to agree to send Asha Greyjoy to Winterfell as a hostage rather than to him at Casterly Rock as was his right. He'd been the truly injured party after all. Try as he might, Tywin couldn't stop his angered thoughts from coming even more to the fore as he thought about the Starks. They'd shown him and others up by coming to the aid of House Mallister and Seagard. Had then proved themselves far too strong for the Iron Born at sea. Their ships somehow had been able to destroy more than half the Iron Fleet even before Stannis and the Royal Fleet had engaged with them. Even seeing their army on land had given Tywin some pause. As he'd not expected them to be so well fitted out.

Now, to add to all of those grievances, he was to host Benjen Stark and his bastard nephew in his home and act as if he was happy to have them there. Tywin liked it not. Yet he would do as he must, for now, while seeking some way to restrain the North's growing influence in the future. Rising to his feet, Tywin walked to the open window and looked out on the Summer Sea. The king and queen would be arriving in Lannisport today and he'd need to be there to greet them. He'd put on some show of false modesty while welcoming his son, daughter, and grandson far more happily than he would the oaf that named himself king. An oaf he more and more began to wonder if the realm wouldn't be better off without.

"No, not until the dragons are dealt with once and for all," he said resolvedly.

Turning away from the window, Tywin walked back to his desk and once again read through his missives. The Northern party had set sail from Sea Dragon Point and would arrive in a day or two. According to his notes, it would be a far larger party than he or anyone truly expected. The Tyrells had chosen to come by road and had passed Crakehall three days ago, meaning they'd arrive either just before or after the Starks did. While the Riverlords and the men of the Vale were traveling together and had been spotted near Ashemark. The Stormlords as well as those from the Crownlands had set out by sea. Though Tywin cared not enough about either to truly care when or where they landed. Other than the king and queen, he'd greet none of them anywhere other than Casterly Rock. For the Lion had people come to him not him to them.

Writing out his own orders that he wished to be carried out for the day, Tywin had just finished them when the knock came on the door. Kevan gave him a nod as he entered to let him know it was time. Slowly, he rose to his feet, walked to join his brother, and together they took the lift from the family wing to where the horses awaited below. He had no worries that Kevan would make their procession to Lannisport look anything less than he wished it to be and as always he was proved right. As more than a hundred men at arms awaited him. All of them mounted and ready to ride as he knew they'd be.

"Come we've got a king to greet," Tywin said, sounding as non-enthused as he truly felt by the notion.

Three days later.

Robert Baratheon was a man who couldn't control his basest impulses. He cared not that he shamed Cersei right under Tywin's roof and it took all of Tywin's own control not to gut the man in his sleep. Drink, food, tales of killing dragons, each night since the Stag's arrival, Tywin was forced to bear witness to a man who deserved not the crown he wore. It made him question not just his plans for the future, but actions taken in the past. Tywin even went so far as to almost berate himself for not marching on the Trident and breaking the victor's ranks rather than heading to King's Landing in order to see a dragon fall. A small part of him said he'd done what he'd done to see Jaime safe, but Tywin knew the truth of the matter. He'd marched to see Aerys pay for his slights and now as he looked at a thankfully sober Robert Baratheon, he wondered if he had been wrong to do so.

They were sitting in the Great Hall of Casterly Rock, Robert and Cersei sitting in pride of place while Tywin, for one of the few times in his life, willingly sat in a lesser seat. His daughter was bored and disinterested which made her a match for her husband in more ways than one. Robert even had to be coaxed by Jon Arryn to do this part of his duties and even then, had it not been for the fact that the Lords of the North had arrived, he may not have done so. First, though it was to welcome the Tyrells. So as Tywin looked to the large double doors, he nodded, and they were opened.

Mace Tyrell his wife Lady Alerie, Olenna, and two of her grandson entered first. Garlan who was a tall lad of two and ten, and Loras who looked much like his older brother even at nine. Though Tywin's and most other eyes in the Great Hal, now looked more to the young brown-haired girl who followed them. A girl who despite her tender age of six Namedays, looked like a true lady in waiting. Margaery Tyrell would be a beauty one day and given the coin and numbers her House could call upon, she'd be a good match for Joffrey. Though was a match that would never be allowed to take place if Robert got his way.

"The Warden of the South, Lord Mace Tyrell, and his wife Lady Alerie. Their children Garlan, Loras, and Margaery. And The Lady Olenna Tyrell." The Herald announced.

"Your grace, Highgarden, and its lord are most happy to come and pay our respects to your incredible victory over the Iron Born. On behalf of every man, woman, and child of the Reach, we wish you and her grace good health, and good fortune." Mace said, not stumbling over his words and Tywin didn't need to look at Olenna to know she'd prepared the greeting for him.

"Be welcome Lord Tyrell, you and your family," Robert said, briskly.

"I thank you, your grace."

"Rooms have been assigned to you, Lord Tyrell, if you'd allow my men to guide you there," Tywin said, almost perfunctory in his tone.

"On behalf of my family and myself, I thank you, Lord Lannister."

The muttering started as soon as the Tyrells had left the Great Hall. Robert japing at their expense and despite her dislike of her husband, Cersei joined in with the mocking laughter. It was the same with the lords of the Crownlands, though those from the Riverlands and Vale were welcomed in a much more friendly manner. By the time they'd left, Robert was clearly bored, and the way he licked his lips, in dire need of a drink. However, the Lords of the North were up next and once Jon Arryn told the king that Benjen Stark and his son and nephew were about to join them, Robert's urge to be elsewhere was extinguished. Which was far more than could be said for Tywin's own.

Still, he sat and waited, and again at a nod from him, the double doors were opened and the Lords of the North entered. Tywin recognized some of the faces. The Leech Lord, Roose Bolton, the Greatjon, Lord Rickard Karstark, and Lord Rodrik Ryswell, as well as what looked to be one of the Manderlys. Jorah Mormont and his aunt, the former being a man knighted by the king himself for his actions on Pyke. Lastly, the man who had annoyed Tywin greatly with all he'd done entered along with his son and his bastard nephew. The Wolves had come in force and Tywin liked it not.

"Lord Jon Stark, the Warden of the North, and his regent Lord Benjen Stark and his son Brandon. Lord Roose Bolton, Lord Jon Umber, Lord Rodrik Ryswell, Lord Rickard Karstark, Lord Jorah Mormont, and his aunt Lady Maege along with Ser Wendel Manderly, the Admiral of the Northern Fleet." The last of those names annoyed Tywin greatly as did the hush that came over the hall upon hearing it.

"Your grace, on behalf of Winterfell and the North, we are honored to have been invited to celebrate your great and true victory over the Iron Born." Jon Stark said, sounding far too assured for a boy of seven Namedays. "On mine own behalf and on the behalf of the men with me, I wish you, your grace, her grace, and Prince Joffrey good health and good fortune."

As one the Northern party knelt and Tywin swore that Robert beamed in happiness and pride at the respect shown to him by men, who despite Tywin's best efforts, had earned more respect than his own.

"Rise Lord Jon, rise and let me take a look at you lad," Robert said as the young lad did as he was bid. "You're growing into a fine young lad, Lord Jon. Your father, had he not been taken from us before his time would be most pleased to see it, would he not, Jon?"

"That he would, your grace. Lord Benjen, "tis good to see you hale and hearty, is that your own lad with you?" Jon Arryn asked.

"Aye, Lord Hand. This is my son, Brandon." Benjen said and Tywin caught the small grimace that Robert made. Something to take note of for later.

"You'll be competing will you not, Lord Umber?" Robert asked the giant of a man who now laughed loudly.

"Aye, your grace. Knocking southerners on their arses is something we men of the North quite enjoy doing."

"Good Man, Good man," Robert said laughing along with some of the Lords of the North.

As friendly exchanges were shared between the King, his Hand, and the Lords of the North, Tywin's eyes were almost locked on Jon Stark's. The boy was far too young to hide his expression as well as he did and yet he could do little to hide the look in his eyes. It was more than anger that Tywin saw when he looked at those dark grey eyes, it seemed more akin to hatred. All too soon, goodbyes were being spoken and the Lords of the North and their boy Warden were walking from the Great Hall and Tywin still hadn't figured out the new question that plagued his mind ever later that night.

'Who was that hatred directed at? Tywin himself or Robert Baratheon?'

It was a question he'd ponder much on over the course of the tourney.

King's Landing, 290 AC.

Catelyn Baratheon.

Life in Court was almost as if it came straight from one of Catelyn's dreams. Stannis was ruling in his brother's name and she, as his wife, was being swarmed with attention by the Ladies of the Court. Catelyn wanted to deny them at first, for none of them ever contacted her when she left for Storm's End. Yet the way they invited her for tea or sewing parlor to gossip made her feel important. She knew her husband's position was why they did so. For they had often done the same with Lysa before her sister started isolating herself at the Tower of the Hand.

Cassana was blooming in her new environment, which Catelyn appreciated greatly. As she had always imagined it would, her daughter was in her element. Her daughter's presence at meetings with her mother, her copying of Catelyn's every practice and courtesy. As well as her eagerness to participate in the sewing lessons they both attended had endeared Cassana to almost everyone at Court.

Her babe was thriving too and Catelyn couldn't be happier. Everyone who met her son doted on him and admired his looks. For Steffon, as too did his sister, looked like a true Baratheon, with his jet-black hair and vibrant blue eyes. People compared him favorably to Prince Joffrey, who took more after his mother than Robert. Catelyn because of it now felt somewhat vindicated as she remembered her goodbrother's fury when they had announced the name of their son.

"You dare name him for our father?" Robert raged as he stormed into their room while she was nursing Steffon.

"I wanted to honor him through my son. There is nothing wrong with that." Stannis said noncommittally.

"You've already taken our mother's name for your daughter. Now you wish to do the same with your son. It should have been my son's name."

"Then why didn't you name yours so?"

"Because his mother refused me leave to do so. Cersei argued that since her son was having the Baratheon name, he should also show some of his Lannister heritage. And now you've stolen the chance of naming a future son from me! No, I say! I will not let you! I am the King and my word is Law!"

"And I am the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands and do not need your approval to make a decree naming my son." Stannis retorted coldly, filling Catelyn's heart with pride.

"I can order you to give him another name," Robert replied petulantly.

"Do you listen to yourself, brother? What do you think people will say when they hear the tale of the King of the Seven Kingdoms who threw a fit because of a name?"

"You… You will not get away with this."

"You can still name your next child Steffon, if it's a boy, of course. Speaking of which, you owe me ten gold dragons."

"What?"

"The wager, brother. I have a son. You lost."

"You fucking…"

"That's enough!" she said loudly, fearing Robert's reaction. "Your Grace, I am sorry, but I am in need of rest and so too is my babe."

This seemed to put her goodbrother in a stupor as he seemed to have forgotten her presence, and so Robert left quickly after mumbling a rushed apology to her. Never had Cat witnessed Robert being so flustered, and that it was during an argument with her husband, after all they had endured these past years, made her almost giddy.

Word had soon spread of the loss of Robert's wager as the king was absolutely furious, and so she was glad of their departure a few days after, for it brought them peace for a few weeks.

Robert and Cersei's absence seemed to have brought a breath of fresh air to the Red Keep too. People were less tense and the atmosphere was calmer than Catelyn was used to. She didn't miss them at all and watched proudly as her husband settled matters in the Throne Room. While he refused to sit on the Iron Throne, he presided over the Hall as a true king should. The Lords and smallfolk seemed to greatly appreciate the change, as Robert didn't care about any affairs that didn't concern women, drinking, feasts, hunts, or tourneys. It was mayhap why her other goodbrother Jon Arryn who, while trying to be fair in his judgment, still catered to Robert's every will and mood. Whereas Stannis ruled fairly and without bias. Something that was rare indeed.

Catelyn broke her fast with Stannis and Cassana in blissful silence. She felt she could get used to living this way, with Stannis keeping the realm in check and her supporting him from the shadows. Sometimes she would find herself wondering what would have happened had Stannis been born before Robert. Or if the latter had perished during the war alongside his brother by choice.

You would have been a better Queen than Cersei, and you wouldn't have had to beg anyone for your daughter to get what she deserves. she thought before shaking her head.

No matter what Stannis said on the subject, she knew that her daughter would be the best choice as Prince Joffrey's betrothed. Cassana brought with her two out of the seven kingdoms to solidify Robert's rule. Three if she counted her relation to the Vale, even if Catelyn and Lysa weren't as close as they had been once. Catelyn resolved that she would not give away her daughter to Ashara Dayne's get, even were he to be the richest man in Westeros, which he very much was not.

"Are you still going to the Sept today?" Stannis asked her, breaking the silence of their morning meal.

"Yes. One of the Septas asked me to join them while they go to the orphanage and I agreed."

"Excellent. Will you bring Cassana with you?" he continued and their daughter now stared at her expectantly.

"She might be too young for such, my love. I am leaving Steffon with the wet nurse too as it would be for the best if I do this alone." Cat answered as Cassana glanced back down at her fruit platter, her disappointment clear.

"It may do her good to see other children. There are not many of them around."

"Then I shall consider it," she said, offering Stannis a smile. Not wanting to show her husband how reluctant she was at making her daughter mingle with lowborn orphans.

Stannis said nothing and just bid them a good day, kissing both her and their children's cheeks before leaving to do his duty.

Looking at her daughter as she left a few moments later with the servant made her heart sink. Cassana was, with the exception of Joffrey, the only child from a noble line in the Red Keep. That was part of the reason why Catelyn wanted to stay here, as she felt that it would push Joffrey and her daughter together with them being the same age. She hoped they could become playmates which in time would turn into more. Cassana, she knew, missed having company and Catelyn remembered how close she had always been to her Lysa when they were younger. Closer than she had been with her brother who was much younger and a boy. Though she couldn't and wouldn't let the court see her daughter play with people from a lower status. Catelyn resolved to find a lady-in-waiting for Cassana of around her age or maybe older so that they could share a bond as Lysa and she had when they were children.

After praying to the Mother for her children's wellbeing, she fulfilled her promise to go to the orphanage with the Septas. It was overcrowded, much to Cat's surprise, and the matron of the house explained that most of the older children were abandoned right after the sack of King's Landing. Stannis had told her about what he called, the spoils of war. The children that were born of rape and who were then abandoned by their mothers. Most of them were bastards but didn't even know their fathers were nobles. It made her sick to think of the Lannister men who condemned their offspring to live in such a condition, all because they couldn't control their lust.

Yet you wouldn't have minded Ned Stark to forswear his bastard, would you?

Try as she might, she couldn't help but see Jon Snow as a stain on her reputation. His father had not only dishonored and humiliated her, but he had then asked his best friend to legitimize the symbol of her humiliation, with no care for her feelings. It wasn't as if there wasn't another Stark to further the line. Ned's brother had gone on to father three children of his own, after all. Catelyn was of the firm belief that she would surely have felt less anger if Benjen Stark had been the new Warden of the North, instead of serving as the Bastard's regent.

She shook her head clear of such thoughts and focused instead on the children at the orphanage. They had done nothing to her and deserved to be treated as kindly as the Mother would. For they were alone and without guidance. Children who were baseborn by birth and mayhap nature, unless they were given over to the Father's protection.

When she arrived back at the Red Keep, she was surprised to hear that someone awaited and sought a private audience with her.

"Me? Are you sure she asked for me?"

"Aye, milady." Sofi, the head of her serving girls, answered. "The Lady said she comes with a letter from your father and wants to speak with you and only you."

"Very well, I will be receiving her then." she declared, her curiosity growing when she recognized the lady who requested an audience. "Lady Alysanne?"

Alysanne Bracken was not someone Catelyn had spent much time with. The lady was younger than Lysa and the Tully sisters had never fostered with any of the ladies from the neighboring keeps for they were content with each other's company. Yet she knew her and her older sisters and was somewhat fond of her and of her namesake, Catelyn Bracken.

"I thank you for receiving me, Lady Baratheon. I am sorry for the inconvenience -"

"Nonsense! You're the daughter of one of my father's bannermen. You will never be an inconvenience." Catelyn said politely.

"And this is why I apologize even more. I… I should have… I am so sorry, my Lady!" the young girl started before bursting into tears, holding out a letter that Catelyn took shakily.

My Dearest Catelyn,

Lord Bracken and I entrust you with Lady Alysanne's well-being, as she can no longer stay in her home due to her situation.

The lady is with child, as you can no doubt see, and her father did not know about her condition before it was too late for the Maester to do something to resolve her situation. She claims the babe to be King Robert's and that he was the man who took her maidenhead. Her father is beside himself, as you can imagine, yet there is naught he can do before the child is born, hence why I sent the girl your way. Lord Bracken wanted to come himself and confront the king about what happened, but I convinced him otherwise.

No doubt you understand how sensitive this situation is and you will be able to treat this without making too much of a scandal. I leave it to you and your husband's discretion to find a fitting solution and to preserve whatever honor House Bracken has left.

Your father

Lord Hoster Tully

Lord of Riverrun and Lord Paramount of the Trident.

Catelyn looked horrified at both the letter and the girl.

"Is this true?"

"My Lady…"

"My father said that my goodbrother… Is that true?" Catelyn insisted through clenched teeth.

"I… I am ashamed of the way I acted. I am ashamed of saying yes when he came to my room. I didn't know… He said he would send for me and I would be living at Court, and I never heard from him afterward."

All of Catelyn's poised demeanor vanished while hearing the girl's confirmation. All the resentment and anger resurfaced as she thought about the moment she'd heard about her former husband's infidelity. Rage now overtook her conscience. Catelyn couldn't help but see herself instead of Cersei, and Alysanne became the symbol of the woman who had wronged her ten years prior.

The slap the Bracken girl received resounded around the room and made her cry even harder.

"You… How dare you?" was all Catelyn could say, still blinded by rage as she was.

"I'm sorry, my Lady… I'm truly sorry!"

"What did you think would happen by coming here? Did you think we would condone your actions?"

"I didn't… Lady Catelyn, your Father… He -"

"I do not care about my father's wishes! I want you gone. I want you and your bastard gone and out of my life!"

"But, my Lady… Without your help, what will become of me? Of my babe?" Alysanne sniffled.

"Out! Get out of my sight! I want you gone! Do you hear me?"

"What is the meaning of this?"

Both Catelyn and Alysanne froze as Stannis' voice thundered through the room. Her husband's icy gaze quickly lifted the angry veil that had clouded her judgment. It was now replaced by shame for her behavior when the lady Bracken threw herself at his feet.

"My Lord Stannis, I know my actions were wrong, but I beg of you, I have nowhere to go. My father has all but disowned me and I know that I now have no prospect of finding a husband. I am ruined, my Lord, my Lady, and all I ask is for my babe to be taken care of if not for anything for myself." Alysanne pleaded.

"Your babe, my Lady?" Stannis asked confused as he looked to Catelyn and then to Alysanne.

"I'm having your brother's babe, my Lord. I do not know what to do. My father, the Maester, tried to get rid of it but it would not go. I… I do not want to bring shame to my family."

"But you're willing to bring it to ours by claiming it so openly to be the King's offspring." Catelyn retorted with bite and only quietened at Stannis' pointed glare.

"I only told the truth to my father, Lord Hoster, and now to you both, my lady. No one knows, I swear it on the Seven-Pointed Star. Here, Lord Hoster gave me a letter for his daughter before sending me here. I would never…"

"I believe you, my Lady. I think my wife has been overwhelmed with the news and needs some time alone. I promise you we will find a suitable solution for your trouble."

"Surely you can't -"

"Sofi will find accommodations for you, my Lady. Have some rest and we will talk later when clearer minds will prevail." Stannis cut his wife without looking at her. Which made the latter fear for the upcoming discussion as Alyssane scurried after the servant.

"A suitable solution? Stannis, you can't." Catelyn said shaking her head.

"If this babe is my brother's, then he must agree to take accountability for his actions."

"How can we believe -"

"Have you seen how distraught this girl is? She just said she was disowned by her father, and yet you stood there, judging her actions as if she was the only one to blame."

"If what she says is true, then she lay with a married man! By her actions, she will destroy a family!"

"You know how Robert is, Catelyn. How shameless and selfish he can be. Do you think he cares about destroying his family and shaming his wife when he fucks whatever wench he grabs and almost does so right in front of his wife?"

"You want him to acknowledge this one." she deduced with an accusatory tone.

"The girl is noble and highborn, Catelyn. Her father will want no less."

"So you want to make it a prince or a princess? Reward her wanton attitude with a title?" She spat.

"No, That would never happen with Cersei around. But Robert still needs to acknowledge his bastard. It won't be the first time and surely not the last."

"What do you mean?"

He talked to her then about Mya Stone, the girl Robert had fathered during his time at the Vale. Of how Jon Arryn made him take responsibility as soon as he admitted taking her mother's maidenhead, and again Catelyn felt sick to her stomach.

"Your Father is right. We need to be sensible here, despite our opinions." Stannis ended up declaring. "I will talk with Jon so that he can make Robert recognize the babe. That is the only thing that can be done if we don't want a scandal to happen in the Riverlands."

"The girl cannot stay at the Red Keep. She will not be welcomed home by her father either." Catelyn said, feeling defeated by the complexity of the situation.

"Then we will host her in Storm's End and find someone willing to wed her."

"I will not have a wanton girl and her bastard child in my home." she retorted angrily.

"That is the least we can do for the mess Robert has created."

"We are not responsible for it! Why do we have to clean up after him?"

"By the Gods, think, Catelyn! What do you think will happen if we left the girl by herself after your father entrusted you with her care? Word will get out and spread through the Riverlands that we abandoned her to her fate. People will say that neither the king nor his family cares about their subjects even those who are highborn. I would have thought that you, who want our daughter to be queen one day, would understand the need for the Crown to be seen in a good light."

The way he talked to her displeased Catelyn. They didn't always see eye to eye on things but were always able to speak calmly about it and bring about a swift resolution to things. Catelyn could count on one hand the number of arguments they had throughout their years of marriage. Yet this one hurt her deeply because she knew her feelings would matter not in the end. No matter what, she would be forced to endure whatever plan Stannis had to solve his brother's problem. She felt as powerless now as she had been when Theon Greyjoy had arrived and became a prisoner in her keep.

"Is there anything else you want to add on the matter, my Lord?" she asked crisply.

"Aye. You may not like the way I decided to deal with the situation, but I want you to behave as the Lady of Storm's End and welcome Lady Alyssane into our home as a guest, at least until the babe is born. Do you think you can act as the true Lady I know you are, despite your prejudice toward her?"

"As long as she stays away from you and Robert and doesn't cause any trouble, I will try to be civil."

"I know I ask for a lot, and I thank you for being the woman I have grown to care so deeply about, Catelyn. As hard as it is given the nature of the matter at hand," he said while bridging the gap between them.

"I have no choice in the matter, have I?" she retorted as she turned away from him, not wanting to be swayed by his honeyed words.

"I will talk to the lady now. Take the time you need to compose yourself, my lady" Stannis sighed loudly, and part of her felt ashamed for adding to his duty with her attitude Yet the anger she felt was still too raw for her to get past it.

In time she would probably manage to see her husband's point, but for now, she only thought about the growing hatred she felt for Robert Baratheon at this point. Catelyn really shouldn't have been surprised by his behavior, as he was Ned Stark's best friend and he hadn't seemed to mind his brother by choice's infidelity. She had also seen him disrespect his wife more than once, but to have her pick up the pieces of his irresponsibility was a new low that she had never thought she would have to endure.

Lannisport 290 AC.

Jon Stark.

Jon had found that he enjoyed riding horses more than traveling by boat. He'd found too that the fact that his first journey was one that took him to Casterly Rock had brought him a foul mood. He missed Ashara and he couldn't help but think, as excited as he had been at the prospect of seeing his first tourney, that he would be stuck with people who despised his Mother. The fear of being discovered by Tywin Lannister too was present in his mind. As the man was known for having been close to the Targaryens before later betraying them.

His mother's last letter had warned him to be most careful and not to react to the insults thrown at his family.

My Son,

They will try to test you, because of me and because of my allegiances.

Tywin will probably try to make the King see that you are not loyal to him because I poisoned your mind with stories about the war.

Be very careful, my Love. Whatever feelings you may have for the King, whatever you hear about me, do not let anyone catch them in your anger.

Whatever you hear about your family, your Uncle Arthur, or me, always answer them back with kindness and courtesy.

Your Mother, who loves you deeply and wishes you would truly enjoy your first tourney with your cousin.

Lannisport, when they arrived at it, Jon liked a little more than he'd expected. That they were to reside there instead of Casterly Rock had alleviated some of Jon's worries. Though the view of the famed keep even from Jon's room in the city was truly a wonder. They've been received warmly by the King and the Hand, much to Jon's relief, even though the sight of the King made him think of what he said about his mother and Jon had a hard time keeping his Lord's face in place.

"Maybe we shouldn't have come, Uncle," he said to Benjen when they were settled.

"Were it up to me and me alone, then we wouldn't be here. But we had to come, for all the times we refused the King, if not for the celebration in of itself."

"I'm sorry, Uncle." Jon sighed.

"Don't be, lad. A good ruler cannot always put politics aside because it displeases him. We are part of the Seven Kingdoms and so we must show it from time to time."

"Aunt Bey said that grandfather never went to tourneys," Jon said, remembering what his aunt had told him about his grandfather.

"Father hated tourneys, but he always sent a representative for our House to them regardless. Brandon or Ned most of the time would act as his envoys when they were of age."

"We should have sent envoys and stayed home with Beth and Little Ben."

"People need to see you, Jon. They need to see the Future Warden of the North." Benjen said sadly and even though Jon knew his uncle was right, he could also feel his reluctance at showing him off to the rest of the Seven Kingdoms.

Benjen fears what would happen if someone realizes who I truly am…

Brandon, as much as Jon, was in awe by the display of food and wealth they got served at the feast organized to open the tourney's festivities. Though Jon found himself not willing to eat much and losing even his little appetite when the king looked his way.

"Jon! Come over here, lad!" Robert Baratheon's booming voice ordered, leaving him with no choice but to comply.

He had tried his best to maintain his Lord's face during his brief encounter with King Robert when they arrived in Lannisport, but he couldn't forget the humiliation his mother endured because of the King and this made it hard to stay polite. Jon had hoped he would get away with having to put up with the King during the meal, as there were a lot of Lords and Ladies to greet and make conversation with. Yet it seemed the man only wanted to talk to Jon, much to the latter's dismay.

"Your Grace. My Queen. My Prince." he saluted stiffly.

"Are you looking forward to the tourney, Lord Jon?" Jon Arryn asked, smiling softly.

"Aye, my Lord. It will be the first one I ever see for true," he said excitedly.

"Do they not hold tourneys in the North? I had heard that some of your bannermen will be participating. Is that not so?" the Queen asked and Jon would tell that the smile she wore was forced.

"We do not, Your Grace. My cousin and I train daily with the hopes that we will be able to do so later, though most of my family disagree with me on the subject."

"How so? Do they not want you to become a famed knight like your Uncle? Surely you've been told by your mother about The Sword of the Morning's prowess -" the Queen said, making Jon clench his fist.

"Do not talk about that man in front of me, woman!" Robert roared.

Politeness will keep you alive, Son. Whatever you hear about your family, your Uncle Arthur, or me, always answer with kindness and courtesy. his mother's words kept ringing in his head during this exchange. He glanced at the Northern table and his worried uncle who seemed ready to get to him, glad to see the other lords looking angry on his behalf. A shake of his head let them know that he would handle this as best as he could on his own.

"I do not know much about that side of my family, Your Grace. Only that they were on the wrong side of the war. I am most grateful though for His Grace's leniency and for the gifts he then bestowed upon me so I could be standing here now in front of both your graces. Not as a symbol of shame, but one of pride through my Northern heritage."

"You've been taught well, I see." the Queen retorted, almost glaring at him.

"I've been taught to always speak the truth, your grace," Jon replied, earning a scowl from Cersei in the process, though nothing more as Robert then decided to intervene.

"Come break your fast tomorrow with us, lad." Robert then ordered to Jon's dismay."I will introduce you to my son and I hope one day that you will be as close as your father and I."

"I look forward to it, Your Grace." he lied, watching as both the Queen and the prince seemed unhappy about the invitation.

He bowed and then quickly walked back to his seat. A loud sigh was then expelled from his mouth as he took his seat as he'd not realized he'd been holding his breath all this time.

"You did well, Jon," Benjen whispered to him, the confirmation that he handled the situation correctly lifting the weight he felt on his shoulders. All thoughts of the former conversation were then soon forgotten as the Greatjon boasted as usual about his fighting skills.

Jon could still feel many eyes on him and he was glad his uncle could put names on those who scrutinized him so closely. Olenna Tyrell caught him off guard once and he resolved to be more cautious around her, especially since he was bound to spend more time with her grandson soon. His Uncle Benjen had told him about the request of fostering they had received from Highgarden and while he was glad to have someone around his age to spar with, he was also wary of what it meant. For he was certain it was a political move and nothing more, as it was something that the South was known to do. Tyrion Lannister's intense gaze on him unsettled Jon, as well as the fact that he was not seated with his immediate family It was something that he wished to understand the reason for and so asked his uncle only for someone else to answer.

"I've heard there is no love lost between the Queen and the Imp." the Greatjon said. "She despises him because their mother died giving birth to him."

"That is sad," Jon said, thinking of his own mother's passing.

"He's also a whoremonger and spends his time drinking and frequenting brothels."

"Enough, Jon. We have children among us." Benjen snapped at the Greatjon

"What's a brothel, papa?" Brandon asked innocently and Jon tried not to laugh as his uncle glared at the now chastised giant of Last Hearth.

Jon had hoped the atmosphere would be less tense when he joined the Royal family to break his fast the next morning along with his uncle and cousin. He was set on speaking only about the tourney and what he hoped would happen, yet the Queen and Prince Joffrey seemed bored with the conversation. The fact that Tyrion Lannister was present had seemingly soured Queen Cersei's mood. So she didn't utter a single word while her younger brother enjoyed his meal and made small talk to Benjen about the North, the Ironborn, and the fact they had apparently humiliated his father by singlehandedly winning the naval battle.

Jon looked on proudly as Benjen answered as a Lord of the North did, bluntly yet politely, and he prayed it would be enough to stop them from having too many more interactions with the royal family.

Robert Baratheon, however, seemed to enjoy their company and so he ordered them to join them as his guests for the tourney, to Jon's annoyance and Brandon's utter joy.

Though the atmosphere, the cheering, and Brandon's own excitement managed to give Jon his own back, his dealings with the Royal family put a dampener on his mood all day long. Robert kept trying to engage in wagers with Benjen, who did not want to partake in such and so he was then reminded how like his brother he was. Which to Jon didn't sound like a compliment, even though the king laughed loudly about it.

"Do you like tourneys, my Prince?" Jon enquired while sitting next to Joffrey, who looked as bored as could be.

"It's boring. The Mountain always wins jousts and melees."

"Mayhaps this time someone else will?" Brandon said hopefully. "The Greatjon is very skilled in combat."

"Nobody beats the Mountain. Have you seen him? He is the biggest and the strongest man of Westeros." Joffrey scoffed.

"I haven't, but I learned that strength alone is not what makes you win a fight. I fought people older and bigger than me and I still won." Jon replied, looking not at the prince but out on the field where the archery targets were being put in place.

"You lie. You're too small to fight well."

"My cousin speaks the truth. Always." Brandon butted in. "I saw it."

"Of course, you would say that. You're his cousin." Joffrey sneered, annoying Jon greatly.

The more he spent time with the Prince, the more the future Warden of the North disliked him. He knew he was being unfair, as the prince was of the same age as Bethany who to annoyed Jon sometimes with her attitude. Unlike his cousin, however, the Prince seemed to always want to be right and to look down on him because of who he was. Jon wasn't sure that Joffrey would want to play with them because of how little he seemed to like them and in truth, he wouldn't wish to spend more time with the prince either. He took some comfort in that, knowing that Robert would not get his way and he and Joffrey would never be friends.

"Look, Jon! A Northman!" Brandon squealed as a man stepped forward in the archery contest.

"Aye, lad, he's one of ours. Which House is he from?" Benjen asked.

"Oh, I know! I know! He's from the crannog!"

"He is a man from House Boggs," Jon said more precisely. "The Greatjon said there's naught better than a Crannogman when it comes to archery. They have to hunt lizard lions and other wild animals from the crannogs to survive."

"So you would say they are the best of Westeros?" the king butted in, seemingly curious.

"They are the best of the North assuredly, Your Grace." Benjen responded in Jon's place.

"Would you wager on him winning the archery, Benjen?"

"I wouldn't, Your Grace."

"Oh, by the Gods! You can't even support one of your nephew's bannermen? You're truly no fun to be around, and I don't get how you managed to father a child, let alone three." Robert spat and Jon could see Benjen clench his fists.

"What do you mean, Your Grace?" his uncle asked, his temper restrained as he did so.

"I find you to be lacking as a man and I wonder if you're a good example of one for Ned's lad." Robert teased.

"I fail to understand how a wager is a show of being a man, Your Grace," Benjen said, gritting his teeth, and Jon knew that his uncle was at his wit's end.

"Are you not confident enough that your man could win? After all your nephew boasted about his prowess? What a shame, truly." Queen Cersei added with disdain and Jon began seeing red.

"I am. I would take the wager, Uncle," Jon said, and now all the attention turned to him and not his uncle.

"That's the spirit, lad!" Robert cheered loudly.

"You are in no position to do so, Jon. You have no coin and it is not in his Grace's interest to bet money with a child." Benjen berated him.

"Oh, I wouldn't do that to my friend's son. In fact, I would name a totally different price." Robert retorted, increasing Benjen's silent anger.

Jon knew he would be up to a long scolding, if not a punishment, and he felt that he should receive it for a worthy reason. His blood was up thought and despite Benjen's words of warning, he spoke some more.

"What is it, your Grace?" he challenged.

"If I win, you will have to become my squire," Robert said, smirking, while Benjen looked alarmed and Jon's heart dropped in his chest.

"Not that. I will not get back on my word. You already gave your conditions and I will not accept them, not even for a wager." he stated firmly.

"My, my… The boy definitely has character." he heard Tyrion Lannister say.

"How about a fostering then? One year at the Red Keep?" Robert asked, almost as if he had prepared for Jon's reply.

"You cannot be serious!" both Cersei and his uncle said in concert.

"That is my price. Take it or leave it."

"I'll take it, Your Grace. And if I win, I would request for you to stop speaking ill of my family in my presence."

"Jon." Benjen's warning voice didn't scare the youngster for once.

"All of them. My Uncle, My Aunt, cousins, and Mother. You shall never speak ill of them in front of me ever again." Jon said with determination.

"How dare you -" the Queen started, only to be stopped by her husband.

"Very well. I accept."

"Then I name the archer from House Boggs as my champion," Jon said without hesitation.

"And I name Jalabar Xho."

"Your Grace, as Jon's Regent, I cannot in good conscience -"

"Do not be a spoilsport, Benjen. Your nephew is willing to play. Let him."

"What if you lose, Robert? Will you bear the insult of losing to a child?" Cersei sneered.

"'Tis not any child, woman. He is Ned's son." Robert said, winking at him and Jon almost liked seeing him do so just to go against the queen. Only that he truly disliked Robert for what he said about his mother, stopping that feeling from going any further than a simple momentary one.

"That doesn't give him the right to speak to his King this way." Tywin Lannister spoke in turn. "Would it be another Lord, you would already have taken offense. One would wonder why Ned Stark and Ashara Dayne's son would get a privilege that not even your son would, Your Grace."

The man's intense gaze made Jon shiver as he now realized the mistake he had made.

"I meant no disrespect, my Lord, Your Graces. If His Grace wants me to bet on something I have no desire to do, 'tis only fair that I propose something His Grace would also dislike."

"See? Do not look too much into it, Tywin. 'Tis all but a friendly banter." Robert stated as his unsuspecting champion was about to start competing.

"Father is angry." Brandon, who had lost his cheerful attitude, whispered into Jon's ear.

"I know." the latter whispered back.

"What will you do if you lose? Will you truly leave us?"

"I…"

"I hope you win, for your arse I hope you do. Father will beat you bloody if you don't."

"He never beat us."

"He never was this angry." Brandon shuddered.

Jon watched with bated breath as the man the king cheered made almost a perfect run, not once missing his target. He suddenly felt less confident and the prospect of leaving his family loomed over his head and was making him feel light-headed.

When Kieran Boggs' turn came, Jon closed his eyes and sent a prayer to the Old Gods to spare him this time.

I learned my lesson. I will never put myself at risk to prove a point, ever again. Please… I beg you. Do not force me to leave my family because of my stupidity.

"The last round will be between Prince Jalabar Xho from the Summer Isles and Lord Kieran Boggs from the North." The announcer exclaimed, to Jon's relief.

"As interesting as it gets, I must, unfortunately, take my leave." Tyrion Lannister chuckled as he stood up and walked out of the pavilion.

"Where are you going?" Lord Tywin asked curtly.

"Back to the Keep. I haven't slept much and I find myself terribly exhausted. I hope you win, Lord Stark!" the dwarf yelled, prompting Jon to frown.

Wouldn't he want the king, who was his goodbrother, to win the wager? The more he thought of the Lannister family dynamic, the less he understood them. They were certainly not as close as his own. In fact, they seemed to despise each other greatly. He looked back at his uncle who, while still showing signs of anger, was holding his son's hand. Contrary to Robert who ignored the Prince and the Queen and was far too engrossed in the result of his bet.

Lord Boggs was the first to shoot and put his five arrows straight into the bull's eye, much to Jon's relief. It was Brandon, though, who let out a shout of relief and hugged his cousin when their champion's opponent missed the center of the target on his first attempt.

"He did it! He won!" Brandon cheered and Jon could only nod, overwhelmed by the relief he felt at that moment.

Jon watched as his uncle's shoulders relaxed and then he chanced a glance at the King, who hadn't said a word until then.

"It was a good match, Your Grace. Your champion was truly a good choice."

"Not good enough," Robert mumbled. "Fate was not on my side this day, but I hope you'll change your mind one day. We will make a knight out of you, lad."

"I am honored, Your Grace, and will think about your offer." he lied.

"Come, lads, it is time for Jon to congratulate his champion," Benjen said clippily, leaving no room for protest, not that Jon had any as he wanted to run far away from these people.

"Uncle, I -"

"Not a word, Jon. Not now." Benjen snapped and if it weren't for Brandon's hand in his, Jon would have already crumbled.

Jon knew he would be in for a severe admonishment when Benjen left Brandon with the Greatjon for the rest of the day. Benjen's fury was then unleashed on Jon as soon as they arrived in their quarters and it made him realize just how much trouble he had gotten himself into.

He knew too that he couldn't argue with his uncle and he understood that his reasons for taking the wager, though understandable to a point, were still childish.

"What in the Seven Hells were you thinking?"

"He was mocking you, Uncle!" he tried to explain. "I was angry at the way the king was acting, and it was too much! He had no right -"

"He had every right, Jon. He is the king and he can do as he pleases. I don't need protection, you do. I am a grown man and I was doing just fine. You, however, just played into Tywin Lannister's hand by creating doubt in my education of you."

"That's not what I meant, Uncle!" Jon shook his head.

"But that is what you did! They will never forget this, Jon. Never. And your little act of defiance could have had dire consequences. What if you had lost and had been forced to go to King's Landing? Do you think the King would have taken no for an answer then? Would you have gone back on your word and proven yourself untrustworthy? They are watching us. All of them. And you being a petulant child is the thing that will make yourself a target for the Lannisters!"

"I apologize, Uncle! Please do not hate me!" Jon cried out, all the emotions he felt coming undone and leaving him a sobbing mess.

"I… I will never hate you, but I am very disappointed in you, nephew. You lost yourself in your anger and you made a grave mistake. Your uncle Brandon did the same and look what happened to him. Do you realize how scared I was of losing you at that moment?"

"I am so, so sorry…" Jon said through hiccups and sobbed harder when he was then engulfed in his uncle's embrace.

"I know you are, lad. I know you are." Benjen sighed. "You know you will have to be punished for this?"

"As long as you don't hate me, I'll take whatever punishment you see fit," Jon said, looking to his uncle, his eyes as big as Bethany's would sometimes get.

"You know how to get to me, do you? You should spend less time with your cousins." Benjen chuckled. "We leave as soon as the tourney is over. I have a mind of not letting you attend the rest of it but I know Brandon will pester me, and so you will assist the Northern squires in whatever they need to do."

"Aye, uncle."

"And you will not attend the remaining feasts either. I'll have dinner brought to your rooms but you are confined to them apart from your duties during the tourney."

"Thank you, Uncle."

"Why do I feel it is more a relief than a punishment to you?"

"Because it is?" Jon answered sheepishly.

"To your rooms. Now."

The boy in him complied quickly, not wanting to dampen his uncle's newfound good humor. Jon, however, was very much not ready to see someone in there and frowned as he caught them looking into his closed chest.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, trying to look as intimidating as he could, and a moment later he gasped upon realizing just who it was fumbling around in his belongings. "Lord Tyrion?"

"Caught red-handed. I thought I had more time."

"Why are you here? Why do you… What were you looking for?" Jon frowned.

"Rumor has it that you found a dragon egg in Winterfell as a child and that you wouldn't separate from it," Tyrion answered nonchalantly, making the boy tense.

"How do you know about the egg?"

"I heard my Father talk about it more than once. The king has raged a lot about it, too." Tyrion chuckled.

"Is that why you wanted to see it? To show it to the king?"

"I care little about my goodbrother's opinion. He would destroy it and I cannot let this happen. You see, I always wanted to see one, ever since I was a boy. My uncle Gerion always said that it was impossible as there was no such thing left since the Tragedy of Summerhall." Tyrion's voice and his expression were ones of wonder and Jon felt some of his anger diminish because of it.

"You could have simply asked me."

"Would you have shown it to me? Would you show it to me now if I asked nicely?"

"No," he admitted.

"See?"

"I cannot show it to you, even if I wanted to, for it is not here. I left it at Winterfell."

"Oh. I guess the rumors were only partially true." Tyrion said dejectedly.

"I guess so."

"Does it mean you would show me the egg if I was to come to your keep?" Tyrion then asked, catching Jon by surprise.

"I see no reason not to. Except for you being here looking for it without my knowledge."

"Good point, little Lord. You're a smart one. I like that." Tyrion chuckled. "I will take my leave then. I trust you not to divulge this encounter to my Father."

"Why not?"

"Well, I am sure you heard rumors about me too. I shame him too much already. Knowing the little stunt I tried to pull with you here will only make him hate me more."

"Why would he hate you? You're his son." Jon asked, curious to know how a father could hate a son, even if that son was a dwarf.

"That, young man, is the question I ask myself every morn when I wake and every night when I go to sleep. The only answer I can give you is because of my existence."

Jon looked at the man facing him with suspicion. Tyrion Lannister had not hesitated to come into his room for Egg, yet he didn't hide his intent either. Was this why his mother had warned him about it?

'People are different South of the Neck, Son. Whereas people in the North will wear their emotions on their face, the Southerners will insult you while smiling at you and making you believe it was a compliment.'

He felt that with the Queen, with Tywin Lannister too, the way they aimed at stabbing you while wearing a false smile. Jon was wary of Tyrion too, but the interaction he had witnessed led him to believe the dwarf was not well-liked within his own family.

"I will not tell him." he finally said, making Tyrion sigh with relief.

"I thank you for your kindness, my Lord."

"This is not an act of kindness, Lord Tyrion. You owe me a favor now."

"That I do. I can see you've been taught well."

"I may be of the North, but my Mother is not."

"Yes. Your Mother. Did you win your bet with the King, by the way?"

"I did."

"Good! I cannot wait to see the chaos it will create now. Until then, my Lord." Tyrion quickly slipped away, leaving Jon in a state of confusion.

Lannisport 290 AC.

Olenna Tyrell.

Their welcome proved just how far from favor they truly were. Her oaf of a son actually believed it to be a true and gracious greeting when Olenna had seen it far more clearly for what it was. Though not quite a shaming, it was a belittlement all the same, and given the far warmer welcome that the North received, it would be a worrisome one too. Or it would have, had Ashara Dayne not paid them a visit and offered them a path back to where they had once been.

A path that was more than needed given how contemptible Robert Baratheon and Cersei Lannister felt them to be. As they had left Casterly Rock's Great Hall and Olenna tuned out Mace's incessant nonsense, her mind had turned to the North, as it had been doing ever since she and Ashara Dayne had spoken. So lost in her thoughts on mayhap wedding Margaery to Jon Stark was Olenna that she didn't even notice it when they reached the rooms they'd been given. Nor did she take note of just how good, bad, or indifferent they were until much later.

In truth, it was not until they were readying themselves for the opening night's feast that Olenna paid her surroundings any mind whatsoever. Only then as she was being helped to dress did she look at the rooms and accept that, at the very least, Tywin Lannister was a cleverer man than his Goodson, the king. It made her ponder on whether or not there was another path open to them. Whether they could ever, even in time, be looked at by the Stag with anything other than disdain and disappointment. Olenna knew that if it was left in Tywin's hands then he would eventually look their way and through him, Margaery could be a queen. What she didn't know and couldn't predict, however, was what their being tied to the Lions would entail.

'No, you know full well what it would entail. You'll either be burned by dragon fire or gorged upon by Lions. Either way, there would be no growing strong from such a pact.'

Taking her seat in the Great Hall, Olenna shivered at the thoughts of either outcome. While around her people ate, drank, and made merry, Olenna barely touched her food or wine and spent much of the night lost in her own mind. She played out certain steps in her head and liked not where some of them led to. While through it all, she could find no other option than to at least play along with what Rhaella Targaryen had bid her to. No matter how distasteful or how much lesser that was than what she felt she and Margaery deserved.

Finally, with her mind as made up as it could be, for now, Olenna turned her attention to the feast going on around her. She looked to the High Table to see Stags and Lions as well as the Falcon and no one else. Tywin Lannister was clearly letting the rest of them know that they held little power in the world he was shaping. Looking at Robert Baratheon, she felt naught but disgust. A drunkard, glutton, and a whoremonger, her spies had spoken no lies when it came to the Stag who sat on the Iron Throne. Cersei Lannister bore it well, the shame her husband put her through. While Tywin sat almost above it all and certainly seemed to care not for the way his Goodson acted.

'Happy the crown will fall to his House one day, no doubt' Olenna thought to herself.

Jon Arryn had the good sense to look shamefully at his foster son when he bothered to look Robert Baratheon's way at all. While his lady wife looked irritated and as if she wished to be elsewhere. Olenna soon found herself growing bored with seeing things she'd already heard and knew of from her spies, so she turned her attention to other tables and to those she knew far less about. Her eyes quickly found the Lords of the North and Olenna then focussed on the Regent and the Warden themselves.

Benjen Stark was a far happier man than she'd have expected. The dourness and seriousness of the Starks was something she'd heard much about, and yet, Benjen Stark at least seemed to know good humor. Each time she looked his way, Olenna had caught the man laughing about something or other. That most of that good humor seemed to come from two boys was a little bit surprising and yet not. For Olenna herself had found most of her true laughter had come from something that one of her grandchildren did or said. Taking a closer look at the two boys in question, it soon became clear which of them was Jon Stark and which was Brandon Stark, Benjen's son.

'He's a handsome lad at least. The children would be most striking' Olenna thought as she looked at Jon Stark.

While his cousin, Brandon, had the long face of the Starks and sharp features much like his father, Jon Stark's face was far more rounded and well-formed. He had taken much from his mother in looks, or so Olenna believed. Watching the boy smile was like seeing the sunrise of a morn. It was a sight that would leave you open-mouthed and one that would no doubt make many a maiden swoon in the years to come. Yet there was a seriousness that would come over the boy's features when his guard was up that Olenna welcomed far more.

'Not a dullard then'

So lost was she in her observations, that she missed the moment when Alerie told her that her grandchildren were heading to their beds. Only Margaery rising to her feet and moving her chair stopped Olenna from not wishing her a good night and having her granddaughter and grandsons leave the table unspoken to.

"Forgive me, Sweetling. My mind is elsewhere tonight. Come, I'll tuck you in myself." Olenna said, rising to her feet when she noticed Margaery had done so.

"There's no need, Grandmamma, you have much work to do," Margaery said as she kissed her cheek. "Mayhap you can do so on the morrow, instead."

"You have my promise, Sweetling."

Olenna looked on as her granddaughter and grandsons were being led from the Great Hall by Alerie. For the next few moments, she was once again lost in her thoughts and again it was a child rising to their feet that took her from them. Jon Stark walked almost right by her table, close enough that she could nearly reach out and touch the lad should she have wished to. Around the Great Hall, the room was hushed as the lad moved to the High Table and stood in front of the king. All ears now listening to a very stilted exchange between the young Warden of the North and the King of the Seven Kingdoms.

Once it was over, Jon then moved and walked back to his seat and Olenna found her eyes briefly locked with his. There was anger there, hatred even, then the moment that Jon Stark realized that she'd seen that in his expression, his features and even the look in his eyes changed almost instantaneously. Never had she seen anything like it before. So sudden and so true was it that Olenna was sure she'd imagined what she'd seen there but a moment earlier. It left her intrigued and she knew then that no matter what else happened during the tourney, at some point she needed to meet with the boy and judge him even more truly.

Tourney day one.

Olenna had little if any time for archery. Even her grandchildren seemed disinterested in arrows being fired at targets and so she was as relieved as they were when the event was finally won by some small man from the North. If anything that had been her one actual enjoyment of the day. Just one look at Tywin Lannister's face was enough to tell her how much the Lion of Lannisport hated having to pay the victor his winnings.

Two thousand gold dragons going to help a Northern House grow strong was more than likely not the way Tywin had hoped the day would go. Though given the North was growing strong all on its own or with help from a most unlikely source, the winnings were just an added boon. Olenna's own boon had seemed to have come from an even more unlikely source, House Hightower. Not that her gooddaughter's House hadn't given her a boon in Alerie already. Yet seeing how the Lord of Bear Island, and one of the only two Northern knights who'd come to the tourney, now looked in Lynesse Hightower's direction, Olenna could feel the wheels begin to turn in her head.

'Something to mayhap help along' she thought as the first half of the day came to an end.

Deciding she had no wish to travel back to Casterly Rock for luncheon and refusing to eat outside as some lords and ladies were, Olenna bid Mace to take them to the tavern she'd heard about. Something that her grandchildren deemed to be a great adventure and that Olenna thought was simply the lesser of two inconveniences. Arriving at it, she quickly sent Mace to buy out a large section of it for them to make their own and once her oaf of a son had done so, they took their places and ordered their food. Not that Olenna would be eating anything that they served here. Her palate required much more delicate fare and so it would be the soft cheese and fruit that she'd sent some of the servants back to Casterly Rock to procure for her that Olenna would dine on.

To her annoyance, there were few if any Northmen present and so she had to forgo the chance to get another look at young Jon Stark or to talk with his regent. She had hoped that they'd have at least been able to introduce themselves to Benjen Stark and his nephew. Or that by now she'd have found a chance to bring up Loras' fostering and would have gotten a truer look at the boy who could one day be her Goodgrandson. Alas, it was not to be and so she would just have to forebear listening to her grandchildren enjoy the novelty of eating in the tavern instead.

Looking at her son, Olenna could see how much Mace bristled that there was no one here for him to show off to. The company they now kept would care not to see her son puffed up like a peacock and showing his feathers. So Mace would need to wait until the night's feast in order to do so. Olenna was more than happy with that, as she too had no desire to be embarrassed by Mace's poor attempts to gain favor with those who by right should give that favor freely. Not that Tywin Lannister or Robert Baratheon ever gave anything freely, Olenna would wager.

"It'll be the Mountain," Loras said excitedly as Olenna turned her attention to her grandchildren.

"No, the Greatjon." Garlan shook his head at his brother as he made his own choice.

Olenna tuned out both boys as they spoke about melees and things she cared not about. Instead, she looked to her granddaughter who, though she looked happy, bore a look on her face that said she liked this place not. It was a look that Olenna knew she'd need to remove either properly and truly, or at least by showing Margaery how to hide her disdain better than she now was.

"Are you not enjoying yourself, Sweetling?" Olenna asked her granddaughter.

"Archery is dull, Grandmamma. As is the melee. I wish the jousting was to begin." Margaery sighed.

"It will, on the morrow, Sweetling. Mayhap you can come sit by my side and we'll make a lesson of the day, to at least make it interesting for you."

"I'd like that, Grandmamma," Margaery said happily and Olenna smiled as her granddaughter got up from where she was sitting and joined her.

Later as they rode back to Casterly Rock, Margaery cuddled up against her mother and drifted off to sleep. The day had turned out to be both dull and boring. though Tywin had at least gotten some measure of revenge in the Mountain winning the melee and beating the Greatjon in the process. Both her grandsons' picks had made it to the final two and showed that they at least had an eye for what made a decent warrior.

Tired as Olenna was, once they reached Casterly Rock and she had made her way to her rooms, she knew she'd get little rest. The feasting would begin in no more than an hour or so and it was not a done thing for anyone to miss it. For players of the game such as Olenna, the feasting was even more important than the tourney itself. So she ignored how weary she felt and did her best not to look too longingly at her bed. Something she somehow managed.

Once again, however, Olenna was to be disappointed when it came to Jon Stark and his regent. Or at least she was for some time. Neither was presented when she and her family arrived in the Great Hall of Casterly Rock and while Benjen Stark did eventually turn up, it was with his son but without his nephew. It did at least give Olenna some time to concentrate on some of the other irons she had in the fire. So Olenna spent the early part of the feast looking to the King, Tywin Lannister, the Lords of the North who had attended. As well as once again to the Hand and his wife. It proved to be a somewhat enlightening experience and she noticed at once the king's mood was a sour one. To her great surprise, it turned out that it was Mace who was to be the one that gave her the answer to why that was.

"The king was most wrought, Mother, most wrought indeed."

"For why?"

"Young Jon Stark, Mother. Apparently, there was a wager of some sort, and the king wished the lad to foster with him in King's Landing. I've heard tell that he asked him to squire for him too and the lad turned him down." Mace whispered conspiratorially.

Olenna knew full well that Jon Stark had turned down the king's offer to be his squire, Ashara Dayne had made that quite clear to her in their conversation at Highgarden. She had no doubt that Robert Baratheon had not taken that well and it seemed, from Mace's words, that he'd tried again. Before then apparently trying to get the lad to foster instead. Looking up to where the king sat, Olenna could clearly see the sour look on his face and as Mace spoke more, she listened and watched while taking it all in.

An offer of a fostering, a wager of one. Followed by an argument between the young Warden and his regent where the young lad refused to back down and instead accepted the wager. Then had actually gone and won it. All of it only made Olenna even keener to get to see and speak to Jon Stark herself. The boy had a backbone that would serve him well and suit Olenna's own needs should Jon Stark and Margaery end up wed. It was not to be tonight, though, that she'd get to judge him even more truly.

Olenna did however get to speak to Benjen Stark and arrange a meeting for the morrow, a chance to speak to him and arrange for Loras fostering for true. With luck, Olenna would get a proper chance to meet Jon Stark too, or so she hoped.

By the time she actually took to her bed for the night, Olenna was exhausted. She was happy with her night's work though, happy too that it was her and not Mace who'd spoken to Benjen Stark about the fostering. Her oaf of a son would have grown annoyed and angered by the Regent's refusal to simply offer it immediately, but Olenna had not. She knew she'd get her way in the end and Loras' fostering was simply a means to an end. A foot in the door as some may name it. Besides, given the looks she'd seen shared between Lynesse Hightower and Jorah Mormont and the dance they both seemed to enjoy, there was another way to gain an in with the North to be pursued now too.

"Work for the Morrow," Olenna said as she climbed into bed and quickly drifted off to sleep. A sleep filled with dreams of Dragons and Wolves and a Rose that grew stronger than ever before.

Tourney Day Two.

Watching the joust at least kept Margaery's attention. Her granddaughter greatly enjoyed all the pageantry and chivalry, far more than she did the brutal savagery of the Melee or the dullness of the archery. Both her grandsons too enjoyed the jousting just as much, though they felt much the same about the melee as well. Olenna at times wished that Willas was here with her as his wit and intelligence were something she missed, but someone had to stay and rule over Highgarden. Better that someone be a member of their family than a Castellan, or so Olenna had always believed.

The jousting had shown even more clearly to Olenna that Lynesse Hightower, was at the very least, enamored by the Lord of Bear Island. She'd even seen Lord Jorah wear the lady's favor as he unseated two Freys that either of her grandsons could have beaten. Before then following those victories with ones over the far more true competition of Lord Jason Mallister and Lord Yohn Royce. Still, Olenna believed it would be the Kingslayer who took the prize and kept the Lannister gold in the family, so to speak. Jaime Lannister showed himself to be head and shoulders above the rest of the field both in skill and in how he was adorned. His golden armor alone was worth close to the winner's purse, Olenna would wager.

As the day progressed and things grew duller to Olenna's eyes, she at least took some satisfaction from the fact that Loras would be having luncheon with Jon Stark and his cousin. Her conversation with Benjen Stark had finally gotten her the acceptance of her grandson's fostering and it would do Loras well to spend some time with boys his own age. Especially one of those boys in particular, Olenna thought as she looked to where Benjen Stark and his son Brandon sat. Both of them were happily cheering on Ser Wendel Manderly and Lord Jorah Mormont in the day's tilts. To her annoyance, there was once again no sign of Jon Stark, and for a brief moment, Olenna worried that the young lad was sickly or weak in some way. Only to then look out to the tiltyard and see the lad acting as a squire of sorts for both Jorah Mormont and Wendel Manderly. Remembering then it was part of his punishment for taking the king's wager.

"Is that it for the morning session?'' She heard Mace ask Alerie, her Goddaughter, informing her son that there were two more tilts and that he had then to meet with Benjen Stark. Given the put-out look on Mace's face, he was not best pleased about it.

Olenna had wished to be the one to escort Loras to the luncheon, but she knew it had to be Mace. Men and their pride were such silly things and yet even a lady as formidable as Olenna was, she still had to adhere to such things. When the last two tilts finally took place, she, Alerie, and Margaery bid their farewells to Mace, Garlan, and Loras. Olenna told her grandson to be on his best behavior and to try and make friends with his future foster brothers. Something that Loras at least seemed keen to do, given his reply.

With the men taken care of, for now, Olenna joined Alerie, some of the other ladies, and their daughters for their own luncheon, happy to see that Lynesse Hightower was there at her sister's behest. She kissed Margaery on the cheek and watched as her granddaughter took pride in or place among some of the other younger girls of the Reach. Then Olenna turned her attention to the conversation that was going on around her and the light-hearted teasing that Lynesse Hightower was receiving. All the while awaiting her own chance to speak to the lady. She was most relieved to find that she didn't have to wait too long.

"Silly women, at times they can't see what it is we hold in our heart," Olenna said as the younger woman looked at her with intrigue. "He's a most impressive man, your Bear Knight," Olenna whispered, gaining a true smile from Lynesse in the process.

"He is, but Father would never go for such a match. House Mormont is not a wealthy House, nor is Bear Island in the South where Father wishes me to reside."

"The North is rising, Lady Lynesse. Faster and more truly than any other lands. Our own included."

"Do you really believe so, Lady Olenna?" Lynesse asked, her voice eager as her heart sought things that her head tried to deny her.

"I do. Should such a match be made, then I would do all I could to see that your new House rose too, Lady Lynesse."

"You would?" Lynesse asked hopefully.

"I would," Olenna confirmed, before adding the news about Loras' fostering.

"My nephew is truly fostering in Winterfell?" Lynesse said with surprise and intrigue.

"He will be after the Tourney. Squiring for a good knight too." Olenna said, thinking more of Ser Richard Lonmouth than of Ser Symon Lake.

"It would be good to have family close," Lynesse said almost dreamily and Olenna tried not to think of the silliness of girls in love. Her own experiences of such things were much like the lady in front of her. Though it was Luthor's pretty face rather than his martial skills that had won her heart.

'As well as his station' Olenna thought to herself.

After promising the lady that she'd speak to her father on her behalf, Olenna finished the rest of her luncheon and soon enough they made their way back to the Tiltyard. Bored though she may be, Olenna found things to keep her interested for the rest of the day. Loras now sat with the Starks and the Lords of the North and he and Jon Stark's cousin Brandon looked to be getting along well enough. Out on the tiltyard, Jon Stark varied between looking serious and far older than his age as he helped Wendel Manderly with his lance, and then as a young boy as the rotund merman shared a jape with his liege. Lynesse Hightower wore a look that Olenna would name as having her head in the clouds and yet she would begrudge the lady not. Should she and Lord Jorah Mormont be matched, then it would only further strengthen the connections between the Reach and the North.

Not to mention the lady's words about having family near had taken on a new importance for Olenna as she turned to now look at her granddaughter. One day Margaery may very well be the Lady of Winterfell. It would serve her well to have an aunt residing on Bear Island should that day come to pass.

By the time the tilts ended, Olenna was looking forward to traveling back to Casterly Rock and the night's feast. Lord Jorah had made it to the last day, as too had the Kingslayer. Yet it was thoughts of speaking to Leyton Hightower that filled Olenna's head as the carriage took them back and then even later as she relaxed in a warm bath.

Tourney final Day.

It had taken some cajoling on her part but eventually, Lord Leyton had accepted her words on the potential match. He'd seen the benefits once Olenna had promised that Bear Island would benefit from her patronage should Lynesse become its lady. Annoyingly, it had taken her revealing some things which she had wished not to. Including that she was considering a future betrothal between Jon Stark and Margaery. As well as letting the Lord of the Hightower know that Loras would be fostering in Winterfell once the tourney ended.

All that had remained now was for Lord Jorah to win the tourney and crown his Queen of Love and Beauty. Something the man managed to do after a tilt for the ages. Nine lances he'd broken against the Kingslayer and it had come down to Robert Baratheon to declare a winner. Olenna had held her breath, as too had a certain lady from Oldtown. Tywin Lannister had looked on expectantly and yet, much to the Lord of Casterly Rock's shock, it was to the Lord of Bear Island that Robert awarded the victory.

To say Olenna was relieved would be an understatement. She believed he'd won and even the Kingslayer seemed to take his defeat in good grace. Which was more than could be said for his father or sister. As Lynesse was crowned with her garland of flowers, Olenna saw Margaery look on with wistful eyes and Olenna found herself wondering if Jon Stark would ever practice the lance. She hoped that he would, for were he to crown Margaery then he'd probably win her heart as clearly as Jorah Mormont had won Lynesse Hightower's.

"She looks happy, does she not, my love."

"She does, a worthy choice though were I a younger man then it would be you who wore the crown."

Mace's silly words still resounded in Olenna's head as they readied to say their goodbyes to the King and Queen and thank the Lord of Casterly Rock for being such a gracious host. Not that Tywin had been, but appearances must be kept up no matter what. As Olenna had expected, news had spread of Lynesse Hightower's betrothal to Lord Jorah, the man wasting no time in asking her father for her hand and setting all the silly ladies' hearts a flutter in doing so. Even Margaery spoke dreamily about her aunt's soon-to-be husband.

Olenna mentally prepared herself for first the words that Mace was supposed to speak to the King and Queen and then for the journey that she'd soon be embarking on. She'd not truly gotten the measure of Jon Stark during the tourney, but she'd guarantee that she would during her time in the North. Before she said her goodbyes to Loras and left him in the care of Wolves, Olenna would judge them all most truly. As for the future Warden of the North, she'd judge him most of all. For one day she may be handing him her most precious flower to cherish, love and protect. One day she'd be looking to Jon Stark and through him, House Tyrell would as always, be Growing Strong.

Casterly Rock/Lannisport 290 AC.

Robert Baratheon.

Tourney Day One.

Robert couldn't lie, there was something about being feted and celebrated that he longed for. That, bedding a wench that he'd not yet enjoyed the company of, and fighting against a man who wished you dead, those were the true thrills of his life. So he had preened and ridden proudly through the west and enjoyed having Tywin Lannister kiss his royal arse when he'd arrived at Casterly Rock. He'd enjoyed too, seeing the sight of so many beauties both among the servants and the ladies that had arrived to attend the tourney.

He'd even bedded more than one while he'd awaited the tourney to actually begin. Something that he'd enjoyed almost as much as all of that, was welcoming the great and the good of the realm and watching them bow and curtsy in front of him. Even if some of those who did so were not people he had much time for all, such as the Tyrells and the Lords of the Reach. Still, he'd not lie and say that Mace Tyrell, or more accurately, his grandmother, hadn't found a beauty for the man to wed. Nor that Lord Hightower's other daughter, Lady Lynesse was just as cock stiffening when she later presented herself along with her father and brothers. It had allowed him to ignore the disdain that he held the Reachlords in, somewhat at least.

Seeing the Wolves arrive was another thing that Robert was most pleased by. Benjen Stark had proved himself in the fight against the Iron Born and he and the Lords of the North deserved much praise for the victory. Not as much as the king who led them all, mayhap, but much praise indeed. It was good to see young Jon too, the lad seeming to have grown somewhat since Robert had last seen him. It made him wonder if the lad's balls had grown too, as few people had the temerity to refuse a king and yet he had done so. Little did Robert think at the time that the lad would show he still had the balls to do so and that this time it would be in public.

After the Wager.

The anger that he felt was there on his face clearly, any but a fool could see that. Yet his Goodfather and his wife seemed to wish to fuel rather than soothe his anger. Both Tywin and Cersei wished the boy to be punished for winning a wager and standing up to a king. Robert angered as he was over the loss cared not a jot about the second part of what Jon Stark had done. In truth, he'd welcomed it as other than Ned, and at times Jon Arryn, no man ever dared gainsay him. A boy of fewer than seven Namedays old had, and Robert would punish him not for doing it.

"Enough" he bellowed, shutting both Cersei and Tywin up.

"Your grace." Jon Arryn said.

"Don't tell me you think the lad should be punished too? Not you, Jon."

"I do not, though the lad needs to learn not to speak that way to a king."

"Piss on that Jon. It was a fucking wager, I've had hundreds of the blasted things and without some ball-breaking, they're not worth a fucking damn." Robert said, as the servant finally filled his cup and he tried not to look at her arse when she walked away.

"He still spoke disrespectfully to a king in public, your grace."

"Very well, say some words to his Regent." Robert began, taking a swallow from the cup and disliking the taste of the wine, or mayhap missing the taste of the northern ale he'd had in Winterfell. "But some words, Jon, not a true reprimand.

"Of course, your grace."

With that, the matter was resolved in Robert's mind. He'd welcomed the lad speaking back to him, as he'd spent the day trying to goad Benjen Stark into wagering with him. Robert had even broken the man's balls more than once and found that his position allowed for no pushback. While he welcomed being a king and would give up his crown not, he still missed the days when he was simply Robert Baratheon. When people gave as good as they got and he was the butt of japes as well as the instigator of most of them.

Jon Stark had accepted his words not and Robert had relished that the lad had been willing to do what his uncle and so many others refused to. It was why he'd sought to make the wager about something other than coin as soon as it was suggested, happy that Benjen Stark gave him the opening to do so. The thoughts of having the lad in the Red Keep with him, of being so close to Ned's son, and of mayhap, even getting his balls broken just once or twice, had been his true reason for being so angered. Not the loss itself. Robert had lost count of the number of wagers he'd won and lost over the years. So While he may like the winning more than the loss of them, he'd not begrudge it and he'd certainly not welch out on a payment.

"Will that be all, your grace?" the pretty dark-haired girl said as she filled his cup once more, and only that he was not alone, he'd have asked for much more.

"It is, you're dismissed," Robert said, allowing that truly wonderful arse of hers to walk away. Though in his mind he'd already resolved it to be a temporary thing and he'd feel that arse under his fingers before the tourney ended. That was a wager he now made with himself and it was one that he knew for certain he'd win.

Tourney day three.

Robert watched as the horses charged down the tiltyard and the lances crashed against the shields. Five, six, seven times they came together and still both men remained in their saddles. He may have no time at all for the Kingslayer, but he'd not deny the man was an excellent jouster. As so too was his opponent proving, much to everyone's surprise. Not that Robert was truly surprised by it, as he'd seen the mettle of Jorah Mormont at Pyke. It had been why he'd knighted the man by his own hand, after all.

Looking down to where Ser Jorah took a new lance from Jon Stark, Robert did so wistfully. This was a sight he'd see daily almost were he to have gotten the lad to agree to his request. Had he not hated the boy's mother so much, almost as much as he may desire her, then he could have had the lad ride back with him when they left the West. Instead, this could be as close as he'd ever get to seeing the lad squire or do knightly things. Though looking at the lad's face, Robert would wager that this wouldn't be the last tourney that Jon Stark attended.

He'd looked for the lad the day before, eager to wager again on the days jousting, only to find no sign of him. It had been Ser Brynden who'd pointed him out to him when he'd asked where he was, the lad acting as squire to both Ser Wendel Manderly and Ser Jorah Mormont. Again his wife and her father had tried to disparage the lad, Cersei even going so far as to say how dare he squire for Northern Savages when he would not for the king. Robert almost felt the same way until it was pointed out that the lad was being punished for the day before.

"Punished you say?" he asked Jon Arryn.

"Aye, your grace. Lord Stark had already taken steps to explain to the lad why his words may not be as welcomed as they seemed."

"They were welcomed though, Jon," Robert said, annoyed.

"By you, your grace, not by the crown," Jon said, and while Robert thought they were one and the same, he'd accepted that Jon knew better. He almost always did. That it had stopped all talk about Jon Stark somehow shaming a king, had only shown that to be even more true.

As the eighth tilt began, Robert wondered how long this would drag on. The light was fading and he wished to be at the night's feast far more than he did anywhere else. Calling Ser Brynden to come a little closer, he then asked the question he needed answering. Robert knew that he could and would receive an honest and unbiased answer from the Blackfish. This was not something that could be said for Cersei, Tywin, or even from Jon Arryn in this regard.

"Who's had the best of it, Ser?" he whispered, though to his eyes it had been Ser Jorah.

"Ser Jorah, your grace. I believe he's won four to Ser Jaime's three." the knight answered. "Five," he added as the two lances crashed against the shields once more.

"I'll allow one more, if there is no winner, I'll name Ser Jorah the victor," Robert said and Ser Brynden nodded.

Fate decided not to intervene and while the Kingslayer won the last tilt, it still left it five to four in Ser Jorah's favor. Announcing the result, Robert almost was giddy at the put-out faces of his wife and her father. Jon Arryn wasn't best pleased, but that was more because of politics than anything else and in Robert's mind, politics had no place when it came to a man's skill with sword, hammer, or lance. Looking at the two men who'd ridden in the tilts, there was no sense of the Kingslayer being robbed or Ser Jorah being surprised and both men seemed content with the result.

When he saw the lady that Ser Jorah named Queen of Love and Beauty, Robert felt a twinge of something he'd almost name as jealousy. Though later at the night's feast when he heard they were to be wed, then he felt nothing at all. It was not until he fell to his bed and drifted off that the truth of his feelings was revealed to him as he found himself back once again at that accursed tourney on the day the smiles ended.

"Damn you Rhaegar Targaryen. Damn you to the fucking seven hells for what you stole from me." Robert declared loudly upon waking the next morning.

Day of departure.

One more chance he had and Robert had taken it only to once again be denied. Though at least this time it left him with another thought that held some merit. Rather than accept his offer and somehow manage to hold his tongue and not name Robert as going back on his wager, Jon Stark had simply stated that he should take Joffrey as his squire. It was not a thought that he'd considered before but it was certainly one that he would in the future.

While Cersei sat and stewed and Tywin looked happy to see the back of the Northmen, which considering he'd paid two large prizes to, Robert could somewhat understand. Jon Stark stepped forward and it was he rather than his uncle who bid their farewells.

"Your graces, Lord Lannister. On behalf of myself and the Lords and Ladies of the North, I would like to thank you for allowing us to attend this wonderful tourney. Your grace, it has been my honor to be amongst those here celebrating your great and true victory over the Iron Born. The North and its future Warden salute you once again for bringing peace to the realm. May we all long continue to know such good fortune as to have your grace and her grace as our king and queen.

Hail to King Robert and Queen Cersei."

"Hail." The men and women behind Jon Stark including his regent cried out loudly.

"I wish you safe travels, Lord Stark, to you and to the good and true men and women of the North without whom my victory would not have been so easy," Robert said to a bow from Jon Stark's head.

"I thank you, your grace."

"I look forward to seeing you at least come and visit King's Landing in the future, lad. You may find its delights to be as irresistible as I have."

"I may indeed, your grace. And I most welcome the invitation, truly."

Robert was sad to see them go, which was not something he could say about the others who left soon afterward. When the day of his own departure came, he was relieved they were taken a ship rather than traveling by road. The last thing he wanted or needed was to hear Cersei complain constantly about sleeping in a tent or in someone else's keep. Not that he had any hope that his wife would keep quiet about traveling on a ship either, mind.

As it had been when he'd arrived, the people of Lannisport had lined up to wave to him, although this time in farewell rather than a greeting. Robert had waved back just as enthusiastically and had even done so from the deck of the ship as it left the docks. Before he'd then welcomed the wine and the food that had been prepared for him. That first night at sea had been one he'd enjoyed, or it had been until Cersei had opened her poisonous mouth and spoken the words that she did.

"I hear the Tyrells wish to foster their grandson at Winterfell," Cersei said as they sat around the table.

"What's that you say?"

"I said I heard that Loras Tyrell may be fostering in Winterfell, my love."

"Jon?" he asked, Jon Arryn.

"I heard some talk of it, though in truth I paid it little mind."

"Why would Benjen Stark agree to such a thing?" he asked, confused and annoyed if truth be told.

"There is much trade between the North and the Reach, your grace." Jon Arryn said and Robert wasn't sure what he was about to say when he looked at the Blackfish who it seemed had words he wished to share.

"Ser Brynden?"

"The marriage, your grace."

"Marriage?"

"Ser Jorah and Lady Lynesse Hightower."

"What's that got to do with any of this?" Cersei asked dismissively Robert's curt look her way, stopped her from saying more.

"The lad is the lady's nephew, your grace." the Blackfish answered.

"That he is, of course, that makes far more sense." Jon Arryn said and Robert looked at the two men, lost still. "The lady would wish to have family close by, your grace."

Robert accepted it but he liked it not. He'd sought a fostering and been denied only for the Tyrells to be gifted one either before or since then. True, he'd wished for Jon Stark to leave Winterfell whereas the Tyrells were sending their son there, yet it irked him all the same. Later, he began to wonder, however, if there was something there he should take note of. Though by the time he reached King's Landing, it was all but forgotten, for now at least.

Lannisport 290 AC.

Benjen Stark.

Tourney Day One.

It took some time for Benjen to calm down after the stunt Jon had pulled with the King. While he understood his nephew's reason and was proud to see him stand up for his family, his anguish at the prospect of seeing Jon leave had enraged him no end. He secretly thanked the Old Gods for allowing them to win that damn wager, even though he was confident they would somehow feel the repercussions of Jon's challenge soon.

The feast then honoring the winners of the day and giving them their prize money in front of all the Lords of Ladies was an event Benjen didn't want to attend but knew he had to because of what had happened earlier.

Lord Boggs received his prize humbly and, to Benjen's pleasure, the crisp smile Tywin wore as he had to give away money to one of his nephew's bannermen was worth all the trouble they went through. The king didn't look very pleased either and he wasn't the only one. As Brandon made his displeasure for not being with his cousin known to all that listened.

"Did you really have to punish Jon, Father?"

"Aye. I told you already that not listening to the ones responsible for your safety will not be tolerated."

"I know, but he did it for you!" Brandon whined.

"I will not have this discussion with you here. You will not be seeing your cousin tonight, even if you try to push me to the edge, I will have you punished in your rooms with a guard at your door to make sure you will not get away."

This seemed to calm Brandon's vehemence, but not the Lords' questioning of Jon's absence.

"It was a bold move of Lord Jon's behalf to bet on Kieran." Maege Mormont said, looking at the scene unfolding and making Benjen sigh loudly.

"An irresponsible one, given the stakes. One he shouldn't have taken." Benjen grumbled.

"I heard what he asked in return. After what happened with the boy's mother at Winterfell, I understand that he wouldn't stand for any more disrespect." his Goodfather said.

"This is the king we're talking about."

"And the boy is of the North. I'm surprised he managed to maintain his calm until then!" The Greatjon retorted.

"He is definitely wolf-blooded, that one." Maege acquiesced. "He shows more of his Northern side when his Mother isn't around. Not saying that it's a good thing -"

"But you're not saying it's bad either," Benjen noted.

" 'Tis good to see the boy behave as such. Not as a calculating Lord not showing his emotions." Ser Wendel added.

"I wished he would have picked another way of showing it. If it weren't for Lord Boggs skills -" Benjen's words trailed as he shuddered to think of the outcome.

"Aye, thanks to the Old Gods he didn't lose. We do not need a Warden raised by Southerners. Even his lady mother knows this." the Greatjon said.

Benjen nodded absentmindedly, his focus shifting to the Royal table as the large man known as the Mountain arrived to receive his prize.

"To think I could have had my moment right here." he heard The Greatjon sulkily speak from beside him.

"I wish you had, my friend. I wish you had." Benjen sighed while falsely applauding the winner of the melee.

"Look at him. That beast is not human, I'm telling you. He's not even smiling whilst the king basks him in praise."

"Has he even smiled in his life?" Maege scoffed.

Did he smile when he raped Princess Elia? When he killed Jon's brother? Benjen wondered, shuddering once more.

"The Greatjon almost cried when he had to yield, Father." Brandon distracted him.

"Oh, did he?"

"I had dust in my eyes. That's how the fucker got me in the first place." the Greatjon protested.

"Aye, that's what we saw, too." Maege declared, winking at Brandon and the banter that followed Benjen welcomed, not wanting to think too much about the events of the day.

He managed to spend a decent night, indulging himself in some ale while speaking to people he had grown to enjoy the company of. The Mormonts and the Umbers were a lively bunch and people tended to loosen up around them, his goodfather being one of them.

Benjen watched as Lord Rodrik laughed at his grandson's antics more than usual, while Roose Bolton observed it all quietly, and the smirk the Leech Lord sported unsettled Benjen as always.

Benjen was not surprised to hear his name being called when he crossed the hall to relieve himself, though the person who called him was still an enigma to him.

Olenna Tyrell, the Queen of Thorns, had been one in Benjen's side ever since his first son's birth. He had known he couldn't ignore the Reach's request of fostering much longer and had resolved himself to watch young Loras during the tourney before giving a firm answer. Yet his worry for Jon had clouded everything he had planned until then.

"Is your nephew well, Lord Stark? I see he did not attend the feast tonight."

"Aye, he has been punished for his unruly behavior. I thank you for your concern, though, my Lady."

"What a shame. Will he be punished on the morrow? I had hoped that my grandson, your son, and your nephew could get to know each other before the end of the tourney."

"Jon is punished for the rest of it, my Lady. He will be on squiring duty during the jousts."

"How convenient."

"My Lady?"

"You're shielding him from the king's eyes, aren't you? I heard he was very angry after fate denied him of his dream of fostering his brother by choice's son once more. Though I would have thought that the matter would already be resolved since Lady Ashara herself came to visit us on behalf of her son." she said, making Benjen tense.

"Ashara came to you?" Benjen held back his shock and anger somehow.

"She did. My Loras has been dying to spend time with a lad of his age for once since he heard of young Jon from his own mother, as we too have been waiting eagerly for an answer about his fostering in Winterfell. Mayhaps we can meet tomorrow and kill two birds with one stone, my Lord."

"I've heard of your tenacity, but to see it in action is another thing," Benjen grumbled. "Very well, I will see you on the morrow. We have a lot to discuss, I believe."

"I think so too. On the morrow, my Lord. We will come to you before the beginning of the tourney."

He needed to leave, to get his act together and to save face in front of the other Lords. The anger blooming from the feeling of betrayal he was experiencing was too much for him. He didn't know what to believe, or who to believe, but he knew that Olenna Tyrell had discovered a weakness she was ready to exploit.

If Ashara truly went to the Tyrells, who knew what she could have told them about Jon? Why she would even feel the need to go there without telling him was enraging enough. Whatever her reasons, she knew he wouldn't agree to it. Was she still working for Rhaella Targaryen's interests? Was she using his nephew's and his feelings to force their hand?

No, she wouldn't risk Jon's safety so carelessly. Ashara had endured so much already, simply by living in the North, and she had been willing to endure more to sell Jon's secret.

Yet he still had trust issues regarding her attitude and intent, issues that Olenna Tyrell's words had again proven to him. He would need to talk to her and solve this soon, but first, he needed to deal with the queen of Thorns and to know how involved she was in Rhaella Targaryen's plans.

Tourney Day Two.

The next morning, he explained to both Jon and Brandon that they were to meet Loras Tyrell and his grandmother and that he expected them to be on their best behavior. Jon was already sporting his lordly face when Arnold announced the presence of their undesired guests and greeted Olenna stiffly when they introduced themselves.

"Are you excited for the joust, Lord Jon?" Loras asked rather cheerfully.

"Aye, my Lord, though I will not be able to watch it as you do."

"Oh, yes. Grandmamma told me you will squire today. 'Tis a great honor to serve a knight when he is jousting! I wish I could do the same, but I only help my brothers and none of them are competing this time." Loras replied and Benjen could see his nephew's interest was piqued.

"Lady Olenna, I have refreshments and food available in my rooms. Why don't we let the youngsters get acquainted while speaking of what brings you here?"

"Lead the way, Lord Stark," she said nonchalantly as she took his arm. "At least you know your manners. That's not what we are made to believe when we see men of the North."

"Why are you looking for fostering there if you think so low of us?" he frowned.

"Because your House and the North is rising and it would be foolish not to take this into consideration. Let's face it. As your nephew's mother pointed out, he is doted upon by the King. We just saw proof of Robert's desperation to get Ned Stark's son close to him yesterday."

"So you would use your grandson and my nephew to get in Robert's good graces?" he asked, unsure if that was the reason and actually finding that he hoped it was.

"That is something I had envisioned, though we know full well that my House will never be as well regarded as yours. Robert Baratheon despises us as much as he does Ashara Dayne, for our former allegiances." Olenna said irritably.

"Is that why she came to see you? So you could ally in whatever games you want to play?"

"If anything, it seems that she is the one playing games, my Lord. Tell me, how well do you know Ashara Dayne? Do you trust her?"

"She is my nephew's mother," Benjen stated simply.

"Yet her brother slayed yours in battle. I imagine that it must be difficult for you to put your trust in her, and for young Jon to be torn between the shame of half his family and the respect gained by his other half. Yet he keeps defending his mother's and uncle's honor, which is a credit to him, truly."

"Your point, my Lady."

"Why are you so defensive, my Lord? Why are you so scared of the South's influence? Wasn't your brother fostered in the Vale? Wasn't his bond with the king the only thing that gifted your nephew a legitimation?" Olenna challenged.

"I've lost almost all my family because of the ambitions of the South. I do not want to subject Jon to the same dangers." Benjen answered harshly.

"Yet your nephew is from the South, too. Lady Ashara came to me because she knows that although the North is growing rapidly, it will still need help from external forces to grow stronger."

"What external forces are you referring to?" he asked, his breath almost stilling as he awaited the confirmation that Rhaella Targaryen was behind it all.

"The Riverlands and the Stormlands have nothing to offer to you, and truthfully, they hate your guts for the slight done to Catelyn Baratheon. The West also hates you, because of how you outshined them during the Greyjoy rebellion. Tywin will never help you should you need any help."

"But you will?"

"We will."

"Why?"

"Because we can, and because it benefits us. Fostering, trade deals, and food reserves during winter. All we ask is for Loras to befriend your nephew."

"Is that all you want? Truly?"

"I want my House to grow strong, without the fear of the Stag's wrath upon us should something not go his way. I believe that is what the boy's mother wishes too, and judging by how protective you are with young Jon, I believe that you fear the same fate for him."

"I do, but I am the one in charge of Jon, not his mother. I am the one taking the decisions for him, and for you two to conspire to push your grandson in our care so you can benefit from it vexes me greatly."

"Do you doubt she has your nephew's best interest at heart, Lord Stark?" Olenna asked with some curiousness.

"That is not the point."

"Then what is it?" she pushed, her insistence making it hard for him to think of an answer.

However, as he stood there and looked at the wizened old woman in front of him, the thought came and so he spoke the words before he even realized what he was doing. It never even occurred to him that he was about to do what he'd been so angry with Jon for doing, instead it was simply a solution to a problem that in truth, he had no other way of dealing with.

"How about a wager, my lady?" Benjen asked as Olenna looked at him implacably.

"For what purpose, Lord Stark?"

"If I win, then we put aside all talk of fostering and the like."

"And if I win, we do not?" Olenna asked, her eyebrow raised. "Why would I consider such a thing, Lord Stark? Is a Stag you see when you look at me, a boorish oaf who cares for such ridiculous notions as wagers and the like?"

"I…no, my lady."

"Then let us speak no more of such things. My grandson's fostering is not to be determined by a fool's notion such as a wager. Loras is a Tyrell, my House stands as Wardens of the South, if that's not enough for you to accept him, then you are not the man I believed you to be."

"I meant no disrespect to your grandson, Lady Olenna, that was not my intent."

"Yet it is what you've wrought, Lord Stark," Olenna said, glaring at him as she did so.

"Then I beg your forgiveness," he said, a small bow of his head to show he meant it truly.

For a moment there was silence, the older woman looking at him before seeming to compose herself and nod ever so slightly.

"You have it, Lord Stark," Olenna said, reluctantly or not, Benjen couldn't be certain.

Not feeling as if anything other than his acceptance would be welcomed now, Benjen knew what he must do. So, steadying himself, he looked to the Queen of Thorns and extended an olive branch, hoping it would be accepted graciously.

"We will foster Lord Loras, for a few moons first, to see if Jon and he can get along and to find out if he enjoys living at Winterfell. The North can be a harsh place for people not used to it. Is that agreeable?"

"It is. I count on you to make sure that my grandson's living conditions will be optimal."

"He will be treated as Jon is, my Lady. As my own son. You have my oath on that."

"Then I see nothing wrong in what you suggest. We can review the fostering in a few moons and if Loras doesn't like it, we will be out of your back Lord Stark. You're a very tenacious man, you know?"

If only it was enough… he thought bitterly.

Tourney Day Three/Day of Departure.

Benjen watched as his son and the young Lord of Highgarden seemed to get along as they commented on the jousts. His brief encounter with the lad's father during their luncheon had left him in no doubt that he knew nothing of import about Jon. It allowed for his anger at Ashara to dim as Mace Tyrell totally ignored his nephew while trying to boast about the works he had started in the Reach. Looking at the last match of the day and Jon scrambling behind Jorah Mormont, Benjen felt pride well in his chest. That his nephew didn't balk at the punishment and gave his all to assist the knights he was assigned to made him think that despite his bouts of anger due to his youth, their family was raising him right. He just needed now to understand what game Ashara was playing and if she was still aiming for a Targaryen restoration.

"Do you think Ser Jorah will win, Father?" Brandon asked excitedly.

"Jaime Lannister is a serious opponent." Loras pointed out.

"The Kingslayer is younger and more trained, aye, but my nephew has something the other lord does not that could change things."

"What is it, Lady Maege?" Brandon asked.

"A lady's favor." the lady answered, making Benjen frown.

He had, of course, noticed the looks thrown in Ser Jorah's direction by Lord Hightower's daughter but had thought naught of it until this point.

"He wants to court the Lady, Maege?"

"I've never seen Jorah act this way, Benjen. I swear he is behaving as if she had pulled a spell on him." she chuckled.

Benjen smiled and watched with renewed interest as the Lord of Bear Island readied for his run against the Kingsguard. He knew of his bannerman's story, of his refusal to remarry after the loss of his wife and unborn son, and while he was not as close with Jorah as Barbrey was with Maege, he considered him a friend amongst the Northern Lords.

He watched with bated breath as Jorah rode nine times against Jaime Lannister without failing once. When the king stopped the jousting and declared, to everyone's surprise, Ser Jorah's victory, Benjen cheered wholeheartedly and smiled as the man crowned the Lady Lynesse.

"What did I tell you? A fool in love!" Maege joked.

Fool he might have been, yet kater when Jorah came asking Benjen for an audience the next morning, the Regent found his friend was anything but.

"I have asked Lord Hightower for his daughter's hand in marriage, and he accepted."

"Congratulations, Jorah. I am truly happy for you and wish you and Lady Lynesse only the best." Benjen said warmly as he slapped the Bear Knight on the back.

"Thank you, Benjen. I appreciate the gesture."

"Is there anything I can do for you, Jorah, or did you only wish to announce the good news?"

"Well, I wanted to come to you before my future goodfather and I discussed further the conditions of the wedding."

"Conditions, you say?"

"Aye. He wants us to open a trade route with them and asked how many ships I had at my disposal to make it work. Knowing our position regarding the South and the information we are and are not willing to share with them, I wanted to consult you before saying anything that could be detrimental to the North." Jorah said, making Benjen smile with gratitude, knowing that at least one of his allies was true to his word.

They discussed the trade offer and Benjen was surprised to see all the goods the Hightowers were willing to buy. Furs, timber, iron, in much more quantity than the Arbor requested, for Oldtown was supplying not only their keep but the Citadel. This was a boon not only for Bear Island but for the neighboring keeps supplying the goods as well.

"I think the Glovers wouldn't be too upset to lend you two or three warships to cover your route while the Manderlys build your own." Benjen declared and Jorah gasped at these words.

"You mean to give us more ships?"

"Well, we would be fools not to help you when part of your profit is growing our own coffers. Of course, we will require participation in the funding of said ships, but they will be yours to use as you see fit."

"And yours should you call the banners," Jorah added, his tone and gaze full of determination. "Thank you, Benjen, for trusting me and helping me. I hope I will repay the favor you've bestowed on me today."

"Not to me, my friend. To Jon when he will come of age."

"Aye. He will have the support of House Mormont. You can be sure of that."

The conversation with Jorah appeased Benjen's mind regarding part of his nephew's future, as did the one he got with his goodbrother, to his surprise. Roose Bolton finally approached him and gave him a positive response regarding Domeric's fostering. Whether it was a rumor of Loras' upcoming one or his goodfather's doing, at this point Benjen decided not to care. His focus instead was somewhat on the Lannisters who had decided to clearly show their dislike for his kin and bannermen. Benjen was glad to see his nephew's eagerness to leave the place, though he had decided to ride back home rather than traveling by ship so both Jon and Brandon could visit some keeps of the North on their journey, Greywater Watch being one of them. Some of the Lords chose to travel with him and Benjen took no time to prepare their departure before saying his farewells to the Wardens and the King, who seemed still upset toward Jon.

Only when they passed Riverrun, a sennight after leaving Casterly Rock, did Benjen feel calmer. He was glad to have survived the tourney somewhat unscathed, though he knew the Lanisters would be onto him whenever they would be able to. Olenna Tyrell would provide some headaches in the future, yet he doubted she'd ever truly visit the north as she had hinted at. Now he would have to focus on the fosterings and he was glad to see both Jon and Brandon eager to make new friends within the North. As for Robert, at least with Jon winning his wager, he'd not ask for his nephew to foster or squire for him again, or so Benjen hoped.

They made camp for the night and his nephew surprised him once more by coming to his tent when everyone was asleep.

"Uncle, I have a favor to ask of you."

"What is it, lad?"

"We are close to the Trident, aren't we?" Jon asked shyly and Benjen nodded, feeling a fool for not thinking about their location and where the journey would make them cross.

"I wish… I would like… Can we…"

"I don't think it is a good idea, Jon."

"I… I understand." Jon said resignedly as he tried to hold back his tears, making Benjen hurt on behalf of the boy.

He knew the feeling of loss as he also lost his father, the difference being that he had memories of Rickard. The Red Keep, however, would be the last place that Benjen would wish to visit, knowing that both his father and brother suffered there. Yet he understood the longing Jon felt at that moment, the need to connect with his family, for he felt the same in every corner of Winterfell. He felt it whenever Jon displayed his temper, for he was his mother's son through and through when he did so.

"I do not know the exact place, but we will pay our respects, only you and I, by the cover of the night." he relented, his heart then warming as he saw his nephew's small smile at his words. Warming even more as Jon embraced him tightly and thanked him profusely.

A/N: Thanks to all who've read and reviewed, I'll get to the reviews next chapter. Sorry for the Delay, we decided to concentrate on getting Brother's Keeper finished and so this should update a lot more quickly from here on.

Up Next: Ashara reunites with both sides of her family and with a queen. Viserys questions what he wants from his life, Jon and Brandon meet with an escort and do some traveling in the North, while Barbrey deals with unexpected guests and Benjen arrives home to face many questions.

For those following my other fics, Purple Deception and Dragonwolf Danced are both due sometime next week.