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.

13. The Old Gods' Blessings

The Wolfswood/Winterfell 292 AC.

Meera Reed.

"In the name of Jon Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, and of King Robert Baratheon, the first of his name, I sentence you to die. Any last words?"

"Fuck you and your lot of kneelers! Just because your ancestors built a wall doesn't mean you are better than us. We deserve to live just as much as you do."

"Yet you plunder, steal, and murder your way through our lands, to take what our people worked hard to own. You may think us kneelers, yet our Gods are the same, and you will now answer to them for your crimes."

"I did what I had to survive. I fear not the judgment of the Gods."

"May you find them more merciful than I am."

Meera steeled herself for the blow and did not look away as the man's head rolled on the ground, Ice once again proving its deadly power. The wildlings' incursions on their lands were increasing and it was the third execution they'd witnessed in a sennight. Next to her, Beth fidgeted uncomfortably as she disliked the displays of force, though she understood the reason for doing so.

"Well done, sister. You didn't look away this time. You're getting better at this." she heard Brandon whisper to the girl.

"How can you truly rejoice to see a man lose his head?" Beth said with disgust.

"You feel less sympathy for a man when you know he deserves it," Domeric answered in her brother's place.

"It has to be done," Jon added. "He and his men killed two villagers and took their horses."

"It was justice, nothing more." Brandon acquiesced.

"Had they not killed them, what would have happened? Would Father have to kill them still?" Beth asked, still looking shaken.

"He would have sent them back to the Wall. He would not have sentenced innocent people to die." her brother answered.

"Are they, though? Innocent, I mean." Jory Mormont spat, her opinion about the wildlings as strong, if not stronger than the others.

"Aye. They've been raiding our lands more and more. Father said in his last letter that they have been relentless lately." Lyarra Umber added.

"I heard tales of something happening North of the Wall. The Night's Watch is refraining from patrolling because of the harsh weather." Jon said, frowning.

"Isn't the weather always harsh North of the Wall?" Loras wondered.

"It seems to be worse than usual," Jon suggested.

"Yet they only send murderers and reavers to steal," Lyarra said bitterly.

"They wouldn't send their families to cross the Wall first. Only those they deem fit to make it and come back with food or necessities." Meera pointed out.

"Scouts?" Lyarra asked.

"To make sure the road is clear and the bounty plentiful. You heard him. He was talking about survival." Meera said.

"Word of criminals matters not, especially when they're about to die." Daryn Hornwood spat with disdain.

"That's rich, especially coming from someone who never had to spend a day of his life starving."

All of them gasped as Lord Benjen's voice rang out beside them, his disapproving tone cutting the conversation like ice on a summer day.

"Father?"

"A man's word rings true the closer he is to meeting his gods, Brandon."

"So you believe him?" Brandon said, surprised.

"I have no reason to doubt his words." his father answered.

"But, my Lord, he killed people!" Daryn protested.

"And I killed him like I did others before me. Does that make me a murderer in your eyes?"

"You were dispensing Northern justice, my Lord." Daryn retorted.

"That doesn't justify my actions in his eyes. Nor did he feel his action lacked merit, as he was acting for his survival. Only the gods know who is right and I will not presume to know their mind. You may think people deserve their fate, but you will never know for sure. All you can hope and pray is that you're doing the right thing"

Meera could feel the sadness emanate from the weary Lord, as it always did after an execution. Benjen took no pleasure in doing his duty to the North and the Realm and she had often found herself reflecting on his words of wisdom ever since she'd attended her first trial.

"I remember when I witnessed my first execution. I was younger than you, only six namedays. It was a deserter of the Night's Watch and my father's party had been the one to catch him. I remember what he said to me about Northern justice."

"What was it, my Lord?"

"That he could remember their faces, their names, and that he would always wonder if it was the right thing to do. Being able to do so in itself was proof that his duty was stronger than his doubts, and the man who dispenses justice shall always be the one swinging the sword, for only he would know if he does the right thing."

"Did you ever regret beheading someone?" Meera asked, her curiosity piqued by the bout of sadness the lord displayed.

"No, but I dread the day I will have to let Jon do it. 'Tis a huge responsibility and I feel him too conflicted already to do so."

"Jon will never do anything he doesn't truly believe in," she stated firmly.

"Aye, that is exactly why I hope to keep this burden from his shoulder for as long as I can."

She could feel the worry in the lord's words, and she started watching Jon closely from then on. Jon had always been friendly with her, more so than those who were fostering with them, and he always made her feel truly part of the group despite her being who she was.

"Let us leave this awful place." Beth shuddered as she took Meera's arm to lead her to her horse.

The ride to Winterfell was a silent one, as they all were after witnessing an execution.

Life in Winterfell was pleasant, much different from all Meera had experienced so far in the Neck, and so at first, she was struggling to find her place until Jon managed to tell her to be herself, at least with him. The lords and ladies forming their merry bunch were all friendly, though they kept making remarks about her origins and her being from the crannogs. Sometimes in a dismissive manner. Meera however wasn't the only one targeted by their preconceived notions. Something that made her form a closer bond with two unlikely people out of solidarity.

People described Lucan of House Magnar as a Wildling because he grew up in Skagos and lacked the manners that were expected from an heir even in the North. He was a blunt, no-nonsense boy who enjoyed running wild, riding on his horse as he had been forbidden from bringing his unicorn on the mainland and being around nature more than being stuck in a keep listening to the Maester's lessons.

Lucan was fierce in the sparring yard, a true challenge for all of them as he followed Ser Rodrik's instructions and adapted them when facing the others. The Skagosson way, as he named it, was close to the stealthy tricks used by the Crannogmen. They both used the elements near them to get the upper hand, surprising their opponent. Lucan was the only one who managed to defeat Jon from time to time with his dirty tricks.

While Ser Rodrik chastised them both for not fighting in an honorable way, Syrio Forel and Ser Symon Lake supported them wholeheartedly.

"Honor will not help you if your life is at stake. The young ones have to realize it sooner rather than later." the former first sword of Braavos had declared once.

It became a game of sorts, each morning they found peculiar things that had no place in a sparring yard, and Syrio watched with amusement how Lucan, Meera, and Asha would use them to their advantage.

The growing friendship she'd forged with the Ironborn prisoner had surprised Meera just as much. Had it not been for Jon's insistence, Meera would not have tried to get to know Asha Greyjoy. She was cocky and enjoyed getting on people's nerves, as was expected from a Squid. Yet Meera couldn't deny the sensitive side of the girl who was held against her will in a hostile keep.

"Today marks the second year of her arrival in Winterfell. She misses her family, her lands, as you do." Jon once told the girl after an argument between her and Asha. "The difference is that you can go back to Greywater Watch whenever you wish."

"That does not give her the right to disrespect everyone," Meera grumbled, feeling slightly guilty at the reminder yet not wanting to show it.

"Aye, you're right, and you've done well to remind her of that. I just don't want you to hate her because of where she is from. Asha is hurting. More than that, she's trying hard to make the best out of the worst of situations."

Meera had somewhat apologized the next day and was surprised to receive an apology in turn, though she should have known that Jon would mediate as he always did. She appreciated the gesture and thought deeply about what the future Lord of Winterfell said before deciding to challenge the Ironborn in archery. They weren't as close as she and Lucan were, due to Asha's status inside the castle, but Meera didn't hesitate to defend her more than once. Not that she needed her to put the impetuous boys of the North in their place.

None of them were as strong as the bond she had made with Jon. While he made a point to divide his time equally between his duties, his lessons, and each one of the fosterlings, there was something in him that made her want to protect him as she did with her little brother. It was clear that he was also struggling with what the future would hold for him, and that not having all his family around him to advise him weighed a lot on him. He received a lot of messages from his mother, inviting him to visit Starfall, yet he felt obligated to refuse the request each time, partly because of them. He obviously missed his mother but his compassion prevented him from asking her to come visit instead.

"My Mother was unhappy here. People despised her and were only nice to her because of me. She was far from her own family and they've lost so much, they need her more than I do."

It was one of the reasons why she wanted to protect him, the other reason being her father's request when she left the Moat.

"Watch over him, daughter. Watch over our liege as if he was your family, for I consider him a son ever since I met him and I owe much to his family."

Meera had grown up hearing tales of the Starks and the tourney of Harrenhal, the day the Wolves had forged an unlikely friendship with her father. They were happy memories for Howland, though tinged with nostalgia and sadness for what happened next. It explained a lot about the Crannogmen's involvement in the Northern affairs. She knew that Howland had sworn a blood oath to serve Jon faithfully and that a lot of Crannogmen had left the Neck to protect their liege's interest. The Old Gods had blessed her father's initiative by gifting the men and women from the crannogs sent on their mission, as well as his children. So while Meera still felt a longing for her home, she quickly understood that she would have a part to play in fulfilling her father's oaths.

Her instincts were now tingling as their horses trotted into the Wolfswood. More than usual, she felt a push toward a certain direction and struggled not to set her horse on the path she wanted to take. Meera not knowing how to explain to those who rode with her why she would act so strangely.

"Is something the matter, Meera? You seem troubled." Jon asked and she sighed, of course, he would notice.

"I… I am well, just…"

"Is it about what we talked about earlier? The others can be narrow-minded sometimes, but they don't mean to sound… well… mean…"

Please!

She tensed and looked behind her, to the direction the voice seemed to come from.

"Meera?"

Please, I'm so cold… a child's voice pleaded, breaking Meera's heart.

"I… Did you hear that?"

"What?" Jon frowned.

Help me… Help us…

"There's someone there!" She said, her heart beating so hard that she almost fainted as she turned her horse in the direction of the cries, ignoring the others' protests as she did so.

Jon was quick to follow her and they dismounted not too far from where the sounds came from. Meera looked around frantically as more voices cried for help.

"Where are you?" she asked loudly, her head spinning while images flashed into her mind.

"Meera, what is the meaning of this?" Benjen Stark's stern voice rang out behind her.

"They need our help, my Lord, can't you hear them?" she pleaded.

"She must have suffered an injury, she doesn't look well." she heard Brandon say.

"No, there's something… I hear something!" she insisted before falling to her knees, the desperation she felt at not being able to find the source of the cries, as well as her head being bombarded was all too much for her.

She felt someone kneel in front of her and a hand on her shoulder.

"Calm down, Meera. Take a deep breath."

"I am not losing my mind, Jon! I swear!" she started sobbing.

"I know you're not. You just need to calm down for now. Can you do that?" Jon asked kindly and she nodded. "Good. What did you hear?"

"I found something!" Lucan's voice rang a few feet from her. "By the gods, it…"

"What? What is it?" several voices asked.

"A direwolf, Lord Stark. A dead one." Lucan answered, making everyone gasp.

"Was it what you heard?" Jon asked and she shook her head.

"It can't be. It was gone for days if not a fortnight." Lucan said.

"No, they… They call for help… They are cold and whimpering." she whined.

"Other direwolves?" Jon asked gently.

"They're so small, they will not survive without our help." she managed to say, overwhelmed by the rushing emotions.

"Look under the trees, everyone. Be careful. There may be more of them." Jon ordered in his lordly tone, the one he used to use when he didn't want anyone to argue.

He stayed with Meera as the group split up, caressing her back to soothe her and watching her with concern.

"Now I know how you always find game when we're hunting," he whispered once she calmed down enough.

"I - I don't control it, and I don't want the others to think of me as more of a freak than I already am."

"You are no freak, Meera Reed. But if anyone asks, we'll say you heard their whimpers and just panicked because you couldn't find them."

She was about to thank him when Lucan signaled them that he had found a litter. Three direwolves pups which, to Meera's relief, breathed still, though they were barely moving.

"How… Just how did they manage to stay alive?" Loras asked, bewildered, whereas Meera mainly felt relief.

"Blessed be the Old Gods. They must have fed from the sap of this tree." Lucan pointed out, pointing at the puddle next to the pup.

"Wouldn't it be dangerous for them?" Jon inquired concernedly.

"We used to collect and store it for when we don't catch enough fish or game to feed on during winter," Lucan said as he licked said sap.

"You do?" Loras gasped. "I thought…"

"What? That we were eating our own during winter? Ha! You Greenlanders are so gullible!" the Skagossi challenged before beckoning to Meera. "Here, Have a taste of my home. It will do you good and make you stronger!"

The sap tasted bitter yet sweet and the girl couldn't help but reach for another drop. Jon, Brandon, and Loras, the bravest of the bunch, soon joined them and seemingly enjoyed its flavor.

"I've never tasted anything like that." Lord Benjen said.

"Such a waste. This is not only life-saving, but it is also a treat oftentimes. Our elders make mead from it." Lucan explained, and Meera could hear his pride and longing from his home as he talked.

"We should bring back some for the pups." Beth declared suddenly.

"You mean to keep them?" Lucan gasped.

"What other choice do we have?" Beth shrugged.

"They may have survived for now but they won't last longer without their mother." the Skagosi countered.

"If we care for them, then -"

" 'Tis a huge responsibility, Bethany." Lord Benjen pressed., Meera recognized his patronizing way especially when he used his daughter's full name. "These are direwolves. Dangerous creatures. What will happen when they grow, if they survive?"

"The Starks of old always had direwolves companions, Father." Brandon butted in excitedly.

"Aye, but they were rumored to be wargs."

"There are three of them, Uncle. Two males and one female, by the look of it. As your sons and daughter. 'Tis but a sign from the Old Gods." Jon, who was taking care of the pups in silence, suddenly said.

"There should have been four of them if it truly was, Jon. You excluding yourself to make it one won't cut it." Benjen retorted.

"But Little Ben is too young to care for his, so I will be the one to do so in his place." Jon insisted.

"So it's already his, huh?" Benjen chuckled.

"We cannot leave them to die, Uncle."

"Father!" Beth and Brandon pleaded, soon joined by all of the youngsters who hadn't said a word until then.

"We will help them care for them, my Lord," Meera added, supported by Lucan.

"Very well it seems I have no choice then. You will be the ones explaining this to Lady Stark."

"We will take responsibility for this, you have my word, Uncle. Aunt Bey will not make you sleep in your rooms for moons this time." Jon promised, his smirk making the lord roll his eyes while the rest of the party snickered.

"Why you little… don't test my patience with your attitude, lad. Come, we should head for home now."

Brandon, Beth, and Meera each picked one of the pups. With the help of their friends, they managed to get on their horses when Jon froze and dismounted once more.

She felt it then, the little cry for help in her mind hadn't come from one of the pups they had found out, and Meera watched with amazement as Jon reached under another tree and retrieved another one. It was white, as white as snow, and seemed more frail than his brothers and sister.

Thank you! Thank you! The white direwolf whined.

"You're welcome, little friend." she heard Jon say as he pulled it under his cloak to give him some warmth.

"Now there are four. A gift from the Old Gods indeed." Benjen Stark sighed loudly, though his smile betrayed his false annoyance.

With a knowing look at her and a wink, Jon climbed on his horse and rode towards Winterfell, Meera catching both him and Lucan looking at her with something she could only describe as pride, which unsettled her a bit.

Of course, Lucan understands and sees the truth, he is from Skagos.

People's reaction to the direwolves' presence was intriguing, to say the least. Meera knew it was the sigil of House Stark, hence why Jon had insisted on keeping them, yet she never expected they would be revered as much. Everyone in the household seemed to think it was a good omen for House Stark and the North as a whole, even Lady Stark, who to her surprise didn't put up a fight as was expected of her.

Soon three of the four direwolves were named by those they had imprinted on, and Meera found herself watching over Jon's while the rest of the group was fighting to name the last one for little Benjen.

Beth doted on the she-wolf and decided to name her after one of the most well-known Stark ladies, Lynara Stark, the She-Wolf of Winterfell from which they descended. Brandon and Jon's choice of name for theirs raised some eyebrows.

Mercy seemed to be the most energetic of the litter, matching Brandon's fierceness as he latched onto the meat he fed upon and fought with the boy for dominance. When asked about his naming choice for the direwolf, Bran only shrugged and said that he'd named him so people would call for their own demise on the battlefield.

"When they call for mercy, they will find themselves on the end of the only one they deserved." He smirked to his mother's dismay.

It made Meera wonder how cruel of a man Brandon would grow into, and how much of a misplaced pride for the stories he'd heard about Northern fierceness on the battlefield played a part in his decision. The girl from the Crannog leaned more into the latter to explain his choices.

Jon, contrary to his cousin, had taken a name fitting for the silent direwolf he was caring for. Ghost was considered mute as he almost made no sound if Meera didn't count the ones she had heard from time to time in her head. Being a warg had its perks when it came to him and she was surprised, yet relieved to see Jon reacting to most of Ghost's thoughts without even realizing it. She was certain now that her friend was the same as her, only he did not know the extent of his bond with the white direwolf. Though she imagined he suspected, given the question he'd asked Maester Luwin about the Northern myths and the time he'd spent reading lately.

While neither he nor Lucan had come to her so far, it would only be a matter of time before they would and Meera struggled with the idea of revealing her people's secret. The North had forgotten all about Wargs and Greenseers, relegating them to mere legends the same as grumpkins and snarks. The Neck had lived in relative peace with their Gods and on the fringe of society for so long that she feared what would happen if people were to know about what they were truly capable of.

Still, she prayed to her Gods for guidance each morn before breaking her fast. The calm of the Godswood eased her mind and she felt comforted by the caress of the wind around her.

They haven't betrayed your secret so far and are like no other. Put your trust in them, and you will be rewarded. were the words she would gather with her after kneeling to the Heart Tree.

It was the night after they were informed of the visit of Loras' family that Jon came to her, or more accurately, Ghost did. The direwolf led her after dinner to the entrance of the crypts, where her friend used to come regularly to honor his lost family. She shivered as her friend emerged from it and motioned for her to follow him, only releasing the breath she was holding when he started talking.

"Promise me in front of the Heart Tree that everything that will be said tonight will stay between us, and I will do the same," he said, the seriousness of his voice catching her off guard.

"You know you can trust me, Jon. But I will. I promise." she said as she saw his shoulders relax.

"I tried researching by myself, so as not to burden you with unnecessary questions, but I found nothing that could help me, so…"

"Help you? What do you mean?"

"I… I don't know who to talk to about this but you. I do not want you to think I am mad but in the meantime, I feel that I am."

"What's wrong?"

"When… When you… Has it ever occurred to you… Have you ever dreamed of being inside an animal's body, and feeling everything they feel? Knowing with certainty when you wake up that it wasn't a dream?"

"Have you felt this with Ghost?" she asked and he nodded.

"Ever since I've met him, I know of his needs and wants, as if he was part of myself. I cannot hear him as you did, but I know where he is when he isn't with me, and lately, I have started dreaming of running with Mercy, of hunting birds with him. Last night I… I saw myself sleeping, and when I woke up, Ghost was watching me in the same position."

"It is not a rare thing, and it does take some time to get used to having a familiar."

"A familiar?"

"Aye, an animal attached to you. Wargs can have more than one, though it is a rare thing as the bond they share with their familiar is a strong one and it takes a lot of strength to withstand it."

"So you think -"

"Ghost is your familiar, aye," she answered with a smile.

"So I am not -"

"Mad? Not at all."

"And I am -"

"A warg. And I can't hear your thoughts. You're just too predictable." she ended with a wink.

"Do you have a familiar?" he asked shyly, making her chuckle. "You do, do you?"

"I asked mine to stay in the Neck to protect Jojen," she explained.

"How did you… My apologies, I do not want to pry and ask too much."

She couldn't help but laugh out loud at his chastened stance. He was so intent on not hurting her that he was willing to restrain himself from asking what he desperately wanted to know. It endeared him in her eyes as much as it made no sense for someone of his status to make so many efforts to placate her.

"Ask me anything you need, Jon. I trust you not to share what will be said between us."

"I thank you for this. It means a lot to have your trust, and you have my word always," he said as he moved to take her hand, his grey eyes so full of sincerity and emotion she had to look away blushing.

"You don't have to be so serious about it," she grumbled, embarrassed.

"Sorry, my Lady, but I take my vows in front of the heart tree very seriously!"

"You know I hate when you call me that!"

"I know, but you are a Lady of the North Meera. In fact, you are not simply a Lady of the North; you are mayhap the most powerful one."

"Stop it!"

"Look, I understand you do not want people to know what you are capable of, but you shall never forget that the gift given to you by the Gods makes you worthy in their eyes and closer to our ancestors than those who think themselves superior to you. The fact that you've never sent animals to get back at them shows how responsible and humble you are."

"Trust me, I've thought about it many times," she admitted as she tried to fight the embarrassment she felt at being praised.

"Why am I not surprised?" Jon chuckled, and soon both of them were laughing out loud, imagining a terrified Daryn Hornwood being chased by cats or birds.

They were soon interrupted in their musings by Ghost, who seemed to signal them it was time to leave the place.

"Will you teach me your ways?" Jon surprised her once again before they parted ways.

"I… I am not sure I can… I never had a teacher to begin with, so I don't know if -"

"Can I at least come to you if I have any questions?" he asked, looking at her expectantly.

She felt once again the compelling need to care for and protect the one she considered her closest and truest friend. Was that why her father had sent her to Winterfell? Because he knew the young lord would need someone to guide him through the hardships of being a warg?

Looking into Jon's almost desperate eyes, there was only one answer she could give him.

"Aye, as long as you keep your promise, I will help you."

Storm's End 292 AC.

Stannis Baratheon.

No man enjoyed being in his own keep more than Stannis did. Each time he arrived back at Storm's End, it was as if a weight had been lifted from his chest. Even the air tasted sweeter as he breathed it in. though given the air stank in King's Landing, that was almost true about anywhere other than the capital. Stannis though knew that it was more than simply the cleaner air, it was the people too that made him long for his own keep more often than not.

Truth be told, there were few people he actually liked in the world. Fewer still, who named King's Landing their home. From the servants who he trusted not, to the lackeys that sought favor from the king or queen, and finally to his brother and his Goodfamily themselves. His brother was the same spoiled and petulant fool he'd always been. While his Goodsister was a horrible woman. Cersei somehow managed to be just as spoiled as Robert was. As for his nephew, Joffrey could only be described as a nightmare in the making. Stannis often found himself fearing what sort of a man Joffrey would turn out to be after being raised in that household.

There was little respite to be found with his other Goodsister either. Lysa and Cat's relationship was now almost non-existent and whatever closeness there had once been between the two sisters, was now a thing of the past. Stannis liked not the little digs the woman made at his wife's expense, nor how she looked at his children. He'd found as much love in one of Lysa's expressions as she looked at one of his children, as he did should her gaze turn to the other, none. Both Lysa and Cersei were almost mirror images of each other in this regard. So other than Jon Arryn, and he only in small doses, or the Blackfish, who was a good and true man, Stannis could take or leave most of those who resided in the Red Keep. He only wished his wife could do so too.

'Another day, mayhap another argument' he sighed as he rose from his bed.

Cat had been loath to leave the city behind. His wife asked him more than once to prolong his stay even after being shamed firstly by the queen, then by the king, and finally by her sister. That Stannis mislked the place so, was lost on Cat at times. Not even when he ruled in Robert's absence had he found any joy while there. Though he'd begrudge Cat not to find some of her own. Nor would he lie and say that having someone be as proud of him as he wife was, was not a boon to his spirit. Stannis' own pride and joy, however, was always to be found in his children and not in any acclaim he was given. For he knew that such was given reluctantly and not willingly.

Dressing as he thought of the morning to come, Stannis almost did so with a smile on his face. Were he a different man, then he probably would. Unlike with one side of his family, never had he been as happy as he was with the other. Cassana was a true delight. She was her mother wrought in miniature and one smile from his daughter was worth a thousand compliments from anyone else. Steffon too was all Stannis could wish for. There was a strength in his son and heir that would stand him well in the future. Though he liked not how much time his son spent in the fool's company and found the man amusing not.

Thoughts of his own children soon turned his mind to those who were very much not. Young Edric was but a babe in arms still. The boy had been born small and it had taken some time for his strength to come to him. Yet, for all Cat's words that he could be no true Baratheon based on his size, his looks alone would prove that false. For Stannis had no doubt that Edric was his brother's son and so he'd eventually got Robert to name him so. No matter if it angered his Goodsister or her father. Was it not for the other child who currently resided in Storm's End, however, then young Edric may have known naught but his wife's disdain. Theon Greyjoy instead was the true focus of Catelyn's ire. Stannis sighed as he remembered one of their many arguments regarding the Iron Born hostage.

"I'll not have it, Stannis," Cat said angrily storming into his solar.

"Catelyn?"

"That boy, I'll not have him near my children. Bad enough he hovers around Steffon as if he seeks some favor from our son, but to have him speak to our daughter…No, I'll not have it."

"He's but a boy, Cat…"

"He's Iron Born, they are reavers and rapers by nature…I want him far from Steffon, Stannis. Further, too from Cassana, I'll not have him…."

While it had been his wife's words that swayed him, Stannis had still gone to the two men he trusted most before doing as Cat suggested. First, he went to Maester Cressen who though he agreed with his wife somewhat, did so for different reasons.

"One day you may need to take his head, my lord. I fear Balon Greyjoy is not a man who learns lessons from failure. Should he rebuild his fleet and decide to reave once more…"

"Then his son's life is forfeit," Stannis said firmly. He had no issues with doing his duty, distasteful as that duty may at times be.

"Indeed. Far better should the time come, then young Theon is not friendly with your son or daughter. They may not understand why you must do what you must do, my lord. Best not put them in any position where they care one way or another."

Davos on the other hand brought something up that almost made Stannis take Greyjoy's head from his shoulders. The Onion Knight told tales of just exactly what it was the Reavers did with women they named their Salt Wives. Of how they were raised to take what they wished for and those not of their lands were always looked at much lesser because of it.

"Rock wives is what they name those who they are wed to, my lord. Those they treat well enough, though they are reavers, and how well they treat them truly is a question I've no answer for. Salt Wives, however, are treated little better than the slaves in Essos. Willing or not, it matters not."

"He'd dare not do so while in my keep."

"Of course not, my lord. Yet, 'tis something to be aware of is it not."

Stannis had since put more guards on Theon and had restricted his movements even more. He'd then called Ser Cortnay to his solar and had bid the knight to speak to his household. Stannis made sure that all the servants were aware that should Theon Greyjoy try anything untoward with them, they were to report it immediately. He'd not have a raper in his home, especially not with his daughter in residence.

That it had made the young man more sullen, was a small price to pay in the end. His wife had welcomed his actions and his daughter, son, and those who served him would suffer not because he was doing his duty and housing Theon Greyjoy. Something that Stannis felt they much appreciated given the looks he received from some of them after Ser Cortnay had spoken to them. The boy was reaching that dangerous age that boys reached too. This was yet another reason why Stannis had acted as quickly and assuredly as he had. Turning his thoughts from Theon Greyjoy, Stannis looked in the looking glass and made certain he was presentable. Though not a vain man, he was very much a man who knew the value of appearances.

"Well, ready for another day," he said, leaving the room behind him.

It was rare enough that he spent any time in his chambers alone. He and Cat still lay together often and the thoughts of yet another child were ones he knew brought his wife much joy. Stannis too wouldn't be averse to welcoming another son or daughter should the gods gift them so. Though should they not, then he'd be ever thankful to them for the ones they'd gifted him already.

Entering the small dining room where they most often broke their fasts, Stannis was happy to hear the sound of laughter. Steffon sat beside his sister and while Cassana tried to look put out at what her brother was doing, Stannis could see the mummery in her actions. Their mother sat at the head of the table and looked at both with equal fondness. Another thing about his wife that he loved for true, as with his Goodsister it had been clear that she favored one child above all. Cat on the other hand loved both her children equally.

"Good Morrow, husband," Cat said upon seeing him standing there.

"Good Morrow, wife," he replied, kissing Cat's offered cheek.

"Father."

"Papa."

His children both called out their greetings loudly. Stannis kissed his daughter's cheek as he had her mother's before here, then mussing his son's hair and taking his seat. Noticing the hungry look on Cat's face, he found himself hoping that the small illness that Steffon had been going through had now passed. Looking at his son, he could see no signs of it, but he knew that his wife had worried. It had kept Cat from their bed and though it had been only for a few days, Stannis hoped they were now ones that were behind them.

The morning conversation was light and Stannis almost wished he had no need to attend to his duties and could instead spend more time with his family. He never shirked his responsibilities, however, and so all too soon he was bidding his wife and children farewell for now and he then spent the early part of his morning doing his rounds. It was something he did at least once a week, changing the when of it each and every time. Not that Stannis didn't trust those who served him, but more for the fact that it kept them on their toes and sharp.

Once again he found no fault with any of the men and women he checked up on that morning. Everyone was about their work as they should be and it again gave him a small feeling of pride as he walked back to his solar. Stannis doubted there was a keep in Westeros as well run and served by its lord as Storm's End was. Nor were there people more loyal and dutiful than the ones he had in his service. Thinking of the long day of sums and papers that needed his attention, Stannis almost didn't see the Fool as he walked across the courtyard.

Patchface for once was not with his son, which had allowed him to move far more unnoticed than he normally would. If it was not for his incessant singing, Stannis wouldn't have even paid the Fool any mind. Yet something about the song drew his attention. Stannis liked not the image the man presented and again wondered if he should send him from his service. Only the memories of who it was who had brought the Fool to Storm's End, stopped him from doing so.

As usual, Patchface wore his motley. The tin bucket with its stuck-on antlers was a mockery of a helm, while the cow bells stuck to the antlers were for once silent. Fat and soft though the Fool was, it had been he and her alone who'd survived that fateful day. A last and very much unwelcome memory of the loss of Stannis' father and mother. Patchface turned out in truth to be a shadow of the Fool their letters had spoken of. Shaking the memory from his head, Stannis moved past the fool and again found himself listening to the song that Patchface was singing.

In the shadows they soar, they soar I know, I know.

They soar beneath the sea.

They howl, they howl, beneath the sea, they howl for all to see.

The birds they sing, they sing I know, I know.

The birds they sing, they sing beneath the sea.

The fires they burn they burn I know, I know.

They burn beneath the sea.

A dance, a dance, I know, a dance beneath the sea.

A dance, a dance I know, a better dancer than me.

Later when the raven arrived, Stannis had forgotten about the song. By the time he had spoken to Cat about the news regarding the birth of her sister's son, Stannis had put Patchface completely out of his mind. Though he liked it not, he was to soon leave the comfort of Storm's End behind once more. Unable to refuse his wife when she asked for them to visit King's Landing so she could try and repair her relationship with her sister. Cat was convinced that the birth of her sister's babe would be more than enough to fix all that was broken between them.

While Stannis was unconvinced, he wouldn't begrudge his wife the chance to try. However, his acceptance of the need to travel to King's Landing had not been something he'd given freely. Stannis finally convinced his wife that Steffon was too young to foster and that even if he was to, mayhap King's Landing was not the best place for him to do so. He'd even made a suggestion of Riverrun which had seemed to please Cat somewhat. Some of that may have been down to the fact that they were doing what his wife wished to in regard to her sister.

Two days after the raven had arrived, Stannis, Cat, and their children left Storm's End behind and while he liked it not, he did all he could to let his wife and children's good cheer be enough to bring on his own. They had managed to do so with most other aspects of Stannis' life after all.

The Water Gardens/Starfall 292 AC.

Ashara Dayne.

Ashara had grown used to being stuck between a rock and a hard place. Yet time was running out for her, and the small bit of control she thought she had on things was slipping away from her grasp.

The last two years had been spent trying to establish bonds between Dorne and the North, to little avail. Doran Martell had kept her at arm's length and Oberyn had made it clear that she was not welcome when they met after her travels to Essos.

"So the rumors were true! You're back. Did they finally banish you? Or did you grow a conscience and come to clean up the mess you left your older brother in?" Oberyn said snidely.

"I am not here to fight you, Oberyn. I am actually glad to see you."

"The same can't be said for me, unfortunately." Oberyn snarled.

"I understand I might not be your favorite person."

"You chose the enemy's side, Ashara. You slept with a Stark and had his get. You chose a Stark after what they did to us!"

"I fell in love with him way before this mess with Rhaegar and Elia -"

"Do not utter my sister's name from your treacherous mouth!" Oberyn yelled, hatred seeping through each of his words like the poison that he used to coat his weapons with.

"She was mine too, in all but name."

"Yet you betrayed her!"

"I did not! Elia gave me her assent to pursue my courtship after Harrenhal. When Brandon Stark died, she had been the one sending me away!"

"You should have refused."

"I did. She gave me no choice. You know how steadfast she could get." she replied, smiling sadly as tears filled her eyes. "I lost someone I considered my sister, my best friend. I considered your niece and nephew as my own, too, and I mourn them every day. I then lost the love of my life because of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark's rash decisions. Do you think I enjoy living like this?"

"You don't deserve to enjoy anything." he spat.

"Well, you can rejoice, because I don't. I know what people think about me here. I know how hated I am in Dorne, and I am even more hated in the North. I cannot even be with my own son because they despise me and he sent me away because he couldn't bear seeing me unhappy."

This moment of vulnerability seemed to soften Oberyn's stance for a moment. She managed to stare him down, not wanting to yield before him, as she knew there would be no coming back from there if she did so.

"Yet your son is alive while Elia's is not." he finally said after an excruciating moment.

"My son is not at fault here. The Lannisters are. Robert Baratheon is. What are you doing about it?"

"I heard that Baratheon offered your son to become his squire several times." he deflected.

"And Jon refused him at every turn. Whatever fault you may try to find in my son because of his father's bond with the Usurper, you will find yourself lacking."

"I suppose you raised him decently, for a Northerner whose father was Robert's lapdog."

"Oh, Oberyn. Do you think so little of me to imagine I would not educate my son properly? Family is everything for Jon, and he will give people who hate his mother the same amount of hatred in return."

"What good does it make that he despises his father's friend when his mother is still treated badly?"

"For now, nothing. But in due time, when the Usurper seeks allies, he will find out that he does not have as many as he thinks. And Dorne -"

"If you mean to say that Dorne and the North will find common ground one day against Baratheon, you're severely mistaken." Oberyn cut her off bitterly. "Whatever schemes you have up your sleeve, we will never break bread with a Stark."

Ashara had taken his words to heart and so had tried finding another way to get back to the Martells' good graces. While the princess didn't mind inviting her older brother, her sister, and her nephew to the Water Gardens, Ashara had been clearly snubbed for years. Or she had until now.

She didn't know what had prompted Doran to send an invite to her personally, though she wondered if Rhaella had had a hand on that. The exiled Queen was getting restless and annoyed at Ashara's lack of progress regarding what she had set out to do, and the Lady of Starfall knew that it was only a matter of time before Rhaella intervened in Dornish affairs. Judging by the other Great Houses' dislike of the dragons, it would only lead to their doom if they didn't reach common ground.

Watching Ned and Allyria spend time with Arianne and Quentyn Martell made Ashara believe there was still hope for her plans.

If only Jon agreed to visit her, then she could prove to the Dornish that her son was more than a Stark. Yet her son always refused her invitation, pretending he couldn't leave his foster brothers and sisters. However, Ashara knew deep down that he still was upset with her about the possible betrothal with Margaery Tyrell.

The letter she had received after her journey to Essos had been full of bite and reflected his anger at her and his grandmother. The one she'd received later from Barbrey had been a little more comprehensive, but it had been Benjen's short one who had nailed whatever doubts she had that Jon was not willing to go for whatever plan Rhaella had set up for him.

Barbrey told me to trust you.

Yet how can I do so to a mother who lies to her son and those who care about him?

Until you prove me wrong.

Rhaella had once again been dismissive of the Starks and Daenerys' warning, arguing that a woman's task was always a hard one when it came to protecting her family and that they would thank them later. However, judging by her actual position, Ashara was still doubtful of the Queen's reasoning.

Her stay in the Water Gardens was about to end, as they were set to travel back to Starfall the next day. While Ashara lamented the way she had been treated so far, she was glad to see Allyria and Edric enjoying their moment with Oberyn and Doran's children. The Princes of Dorne always made a point to let her know that they never held the other members of her family, apart from Arthur, in the same contempt as her.

"Lady Ashara." a booming voice startled her as she watched her nephew spar with Prince Trystane.

"Master Hotah." She greeted the guard.

"Prince Doran is ready to see you." he just said before turning away from her and leading her silently to her destination.

Doran's chamber was as luxurious as Ashara remembered from her youth, if not more.

"Apologies for receiving you in this state. I hoped I would feel stronger to host your family properly, but I am not." Doran started as he gestured to the bed he lay on.

"There's nothing to forgive, my Prince," she said feigning reverence, which Doran must have noticed judging by the chuckle he let out.

"I must say that you are a very persistent woman. I've always known how driven and committed the Daynes were when they set their mind on something, but I truly admire your steadfastness."

"I take this as a compliment, my Prince."

"Enough of platitudes, Ashara. Tell me why you so desperately wanted an audience with me."

"I… I would seek a betrothal between your family and mine." she declared, secretly rejoicing when she saw his surprised reaction.

"Why didn't Vorian come himself for it? He is, after all, the Lord of Starfall and head of your House."

"And he trusts me with his son's and sister's future."

"Arianne is too old to be tied to your nephew."

"I wasn't talking about Edric. We both know you won't betroth your daughter to anyone other than the future king of the Seven Kingdoms."

"I don't -"

"With due respect, I will ask you not to play games with me, my Prince. You may think low of me, but do not forget who it is that \serves the Queen in Essos."

"How can I when his very existence troubles mine own brother." Doran mused.

"Yet you sent him to strike a deal with Rhaella."

"Nothing is set in stone. We learned long ago that dragons are fickle creatures. I do, however, wonder about your part in all this."

"Why should I tell you? You despise me." Ashara retorted snidely.

"You came to me." Doran countered.

"For my nephew's sake."

"I thought you said -"

"I know Arianne is off-limits, but your nieces aren't." She cut him off.

"You mean to marry young Edric to one of Oberyn's daughters?" Doran gasped.

"That is exactly what we want," she replied, her assurance seemingly affecting the Prince. "Either Elia or Obella. They are quite close in age with Edric."

"Oberyn will never agree to this."

"You are the Prince of Dorne and the head of your House. You've stayed Oberyn's hand more than once, which shows that he does your bidding. Meaning your will is what matters."

"And you think I am willing to give you one of my nieces?"

"Do you have any plans for them? Any prospect of marriage? You haven't legitimized them -"

"Yet. Neither I nor Oberyn would ask Baratheon any favor."

"So you are waiting for the rightful king to do so. Interesting." Ashara pointed out. "Starfall is a good seat, one worthy of a princess of Dorne. Edric has nothing to do with what has been done before nor during the Rebellion. Do not punish the boy for the sins of his family."

"I will keep that in mind and speak to Oberyn of the matter."

"Thank you, my Prince. I would ask you to give Vorian a formal answer before the end of the year."

"Why is that? They are both young."

"Because we have other proposals for Edric that we need to address."

"Other proposal, you say?"

"From the North and the Reach. They are quite insistent, with him and Allyria being kin to the Warden of the North, they are in fact most sought after."

"Speaking of the North and its Warden -"

"Let us not waste more time here either, my Prince. You do not care about my son's fate and I do not blame you."

"Yet he will soon become a key player in the Seven Kingdoms. You seem to know more about some moves than most people."

"We will be on the same side, my Prince. Jon will not go against the Targaryens."

"How can you be so sure of this?"

"Arrangements have been made to ensure the North would be brought to the fold. All will be revealed in due time."

"I wish you good fortune until this time, then," Doran said after an excruciating silence, his false practice smile letting her know his wish was all but sincere.

"So do I, you and your heir, my Prince."

Now was not the moment for harsh truths, as Ashara knew that Doran would not be pleased to hear what she knew about Rhaella's plan. It would ultimately turn the Dornish against Aemon and would not do well for the Targaryens' reputation.

They stayed another day in the Water Garden before heading back home, Allyria and Edric gushing about their adventures with the Martell and Sand children. Seeing them so happy and full of energy warmed Ashara's heart. She might have not done what she had planned, but the children were joyful and it made up for the waste of time.

The sight of the Palestone Sword Tower looming on the horizon was a welcome one after a day at sea. Vorian had done so much for Starfall's growth after the Rebellion that it had become another hub of trade in Dorne. Their growing deal with the Redwynes had some people raise their eyebrows, but Loras Tyrell's fostering at Winterfell and Jon Stark's kinship to the Daynes had served as an explanation for their dealings with the Reach.

Olenna seemed to have an inkling about Jon's true identity, as the Queen of Thorns' letters to Ashara mentioning her desire to foster an amicable bond between their son and granddaughter showed more than once. As if Richard's presence as Aemon's sworn sword in Winterfell, as well as Rhaella's involvement, were not enough of a giveaway to someone who knew Jon's father and had met him more than once. When added to Olenna's previous history with Daeron Targaryen, it had put the Lady from the Reach on the right track.

The fact that Olenna didn't ask for more nor share what she suspected with anyone but Ashara had reassured the Dornishwoman, though it didn't help her settle things with Benjen regarding Aemon's safety. Barbrey was still on Ashara's side and Loras fostering seemed to soften the Lady of Winterfell to the ways of the South. Yet Aemon wasn't sold on the idea of marrying Margaery and his aunt told Ashara in no uncertain ways that they feared he could react as harshly as his mother did when she had been betrothed to Robert Baratheon.

Vorian was waiting for them in the courtyard and the warm hug she received from her brother made her feel truly at home.

"I missed you, brother."

"And I, you. I hope Edric behaved properly and didn't give you much trouble?"

"I did, Father!" Edric promptly answered. "I mean… Not the trouble part, I swear I behaved! Right, Aunt?"

"He was a perfect guest," Ashara added, chuckling as she saw her nephew's chastened face. "Our sister, however -"

"What? What did I do?" Allyria gasped loudly.

"Don't think I haven't heard of your mischievous deeds with Tyene Sand. You've been tormenting her little sisters and cousins with scary stories from Starfall." Ashara explained.

"They were the ones asking for scary stories! It is not my fault they reacted badly to them!"

"They were too young to hear them."

"Edric never makes a fuss when I… Oh no…"

"So you've been telling my son frightening stories too?" Vorian asked, smirking. "The Palestone Lady, it was you, wasn't it? Now I understand why he comes to me in the middle of the night."

"Father! You said it would stay between you and me!" Edric yelled indignantly, embarrassed at his revealed secret.

"I… I apologize. I didn't know it affected him so." Allyria said sullenly.

"No more frightening stories and some help in sorting the Maester's books will work as atonement on your part." Vorian declared as he mussed their younger sister's hair. "We will sort the details later. For now, I have to speak to Ashara."

They parted ways, the children leaving with Wylla while Ashara followed her brother to his solar.

"Was your trip fruitful this time?" Vorian asked as he sat in front of his desk.

"I managed to give Doran our proposal. He said he would think about it," she answered, making her brother huff. "He wondered why you sent me at first."

"They should understand now that I will have no part in dealing with them if they keep mistreating you."

"You will if they accept tying our houses together."

"Which will mean they are willing to move forward and get past their grudges. 'Tis the only thing I care about."

"What they think of me is not important, brother. Not compared to our plan."

"Speaking of which, you received a letter from Jon while you were away. Before you worry, I do not think aught happened, since neither his aunt nor uncle wrote to you." Vorian said as he handed her the sealed letter and her heart jumped at those words.

Aemon's letters were so few and always sent with one of Barbrey's as to maintain the correspondence, but he kept being formal and only wishing her and her family well ever since he learned about his possible betrothal to Margaery Tyrell.

Her hand shook as hope swirled in her heart while she opened her son's letter.

Mother,

I hope this letter will find you, my uncle, aunt, and cousin in good health.

I received the fabrics you sent home and I thank you for them. Aunt Bey commissioned two outfits with them for me, and the girls told me how precious and expensive they were.

You did not have to do this, but I thank you for thinking of me as always.

We are getting ready to welcome Loras' family home. Though I wouldn't begrudge them since Loras missed his family and I know what it is to be far away from the people you care about. Yet, I hope they won't stay as long as they did last time.

I was hoping that you would come this time, but Aunt Bey told me you were traveling to the Water Gardens with Edric. Mayhaps you will consider visiting Winterfell with him too? I would love to get to know him soon, as I would Aunt Allyria. You could also bring Wylla, as we all miss her greatly, and Beth most of all.

Should you not come soon, know that I am well and I am doing my best as Lord of Winterfell.

Yours with love,

Jon Stark.

The internal conflict she had at this moment forced the tears out of her eyes. Ashara dearly wanted nothing more than to visit her son. She missed him and thought of him every day since she'd left Winterfell.

Aemon, however, was a contentious point in the Dayne's household. While Vorian supported Arthur and Ashara in their quest to restore Targaryen rule, Allyria was another matter. Their youngest sibling was old enough to remember the Rebellion and knew that Jon Stark was not her sister's son. When Ashara expressed her desire to visit him one day, Allyria exploded, stating that this boy wasn't even their family, and so, they had to explain everything to her. The outcome of their discussion had been worse than what Ashara expected.

"You… Abandoned us… For a Targaryen?"

"I didn't -"

"You stayed six years away from your family, without visiting once, all because of your loyalty to the dragons? What about your loyalty to us? To me?"

"Allyria, the babe had no parents -" Vorian started.

"I lost my parents too! Why did I have to lose my sister for all these years because of him? This is unfair." Allyria spat.

"As it is to blame him for Ashara's decision." Vorian protested.

"Aye. You can be cross with me. I understand, but Aemon has nothing to -" Ashara started, only to be cut off by her sister.

"Oh, I am crossed with you plenty. I am crossed with Arthur too. Because of your misplaced loyalty, our family has been brought down! Everyone hates us, even the Daynes of High Hermitage! How do you think things will turn out when they know we harbored a secret Targaryen in our family?" Allyria yelled before Ashara went to shush her.

"I understand you're afraid of the repercussions on yourself and our family, but -" Vorian started before being cut off by their younger sister.

"I remember you spending all day in your solar because our finances were going low, brother. You can't tell me you are fully supporting them!"

"If it weren't for Queen Rhaella, we would be in a pitiful state right now." Ashara retorted.

"If it weren't for Rhaella Targaryen and her family, we wouldn't be beggars in Dorne!" Allyria spat back.

"What do you want us to do then? Do you want us to turn our back on them? You want to sell the boy I consider my son to gain favor towards the King or Dorne?" Ashara asked, feeling her guilt turn into anger as she uttered the words.

"He is not your son!"

"They will kill us all, Allyria." Vorian declared coldly, making the girl gasp. "We would have ended up like Elia, Aegon, and Rhaenys long ago if it weren't for the boy you despise so much! Jon Stark is the one who stayed Robert's hand, whether you like it or not, we owe him our lives."

"You, Edric, Vorian, Arthur, and myself, our fate is linked with the dragons," Ashara said, not faltering under her sister's intense gaze. "I decided to be Jon's mother to protect him and while I might have tough moments, I do not regret my decision. You can hate me for abandoning you, it won't change what I feel about him."

Allyria huffed and stormed out of the room, making the other sibling sigh loudly.

"She is young still. She'll come around when she'll calm down." Vorian said, yet Ashara thought he was saying this more as a way to reassure himself.

Allyria had been four and ten when they addressed Jon's parentage, and she had borne this resentment for years. Her anger toward Jon didn't abate in the following years and while she managed to hide her feelings when Edric was present, she made no effort to do so in private and shut down any discussion about seeing her supposed nephew.

"He may come here if he wants, but I will not be part of your mummery any more than I should."

Ashara was torn between her desire to see her son and her duty to her family. Though Vorian assured her that she could travel whenever she wanted, Allyria's attitude made it difficult for her to do so. She was afraid of her sister's temper and what she could do should she feel betrayed once more. Allyria's closeness to Oberyn's daughters, rather than being advantageous for the Daynes, put them in a precarious position when it came to the young lady's allegiances.

Defeated and resigned to once again disappoint Aemon, Ashara folded the letter, only nodding when Vorian asked if all was well with her adoptive son. As she walked to her rooms, she prayed to whatever gods would listen to her to find a way to solve her dilemma. She just wasn't ready for the Old Gods to answer her immediately.

Casterly Rock 292 AC.

Tywin Lannister.

Tywin looked over the figures, liking them not. More than a million gold dragons he'd loaned to the Crown and both Robert Baratheon's and Cersei's lust for the better things in life had not even come close to being sated.

'Wasteful spendthrifts the both of them, he thought annoyed.'

Looking at the figures from the mines did at least give him some comfort. Production had once again been ramped up and while there were some worries about the long-term viability of the mines, for now, Tywin worried more about short-term needs. No need greater than the one regarding Rhaella Targaryen and her brood. The once queen of the seven kingdoms having a son and a daughter that bore Aerys' blood had been bad enough. Finding out that she and the Sealord had been gifted a son was just as, if not more, worrying.

It had stopped him not from his efforts to see the woman and her children dead, however. Tywin was more certain than ever of one thing above all. Should Viserys Targaryen be allowed to grow to manhood, blood would be spilled in Westeros because of it. He would do all in his considerable power to see that the boy reached not his majority. For Tywin knew full well that the blood that the dragons would wish to spill more than any was that which belonged to him and his kin.

'They may hold the Stag and Falcon in contempt, the Lion they despise.'

So, he had set his brother to task. Gerion sent with much coin and many men. Catspaws and guards both and with but one order. To bring about the end of House Targaryen once and for all. Tywin had bid his brother to travel to Essos and find any like-minded men who too sought the fall of dragons. To seek out as many of the different orders of assassins that named Essos their home and to pay them well should they be successful in their tasks.

"Seek out the Sorrowful Men in Qarth, Gerion. Others should you hear of them and even some of the Sellsword companies to gauge their interest in going against the Sealord and his wife."

"Few would do so." Gerion shook his head.

"Men can easily be swayed or bought if the price is right," Tywin stated. It was a creed he'd lived by all his life in truth. One that he'd yet to find proved wrong.

"And the other task you've set for me?" Gerion asked curiously.

"Meet with the Triarchs, the Great and Good Masters. Speak to the Bearded Priests in Norvos and the Pureborn, Spicer's Guild, Thirteen, and Tourmaline Brotherhood in Qarth."

"Should I speak to the gods themselves too, brother?" Gerion laughed.

"There is no place for humor here, Gerion." Tywin snarled. "Our very lives may depend on your success. For mark my words, one-day Rhaella Targaryen will look only to the West, and on that day, the Dragons will come in search of their due."

"They have not the men." Gerion retorted.

"Nor should they ever be allowed the chance to gain them."

It had been moons since Gerion had left and Tywin had received few letters from his brother. Knowing the distances involved, Tywin had at first worried not about Gerion's fate. The longer it had gone on without a letter, however, the more he was starting to. Rising to his feet, Tywin moved from his desk and walked to the small table that held his map of Essos. His fingers soon traced out the routes that Gerion and the Smiling Lion would have sailed.

"Mayhap I'll travel on to Valyria, see if I can find a Valyrian steel sword or even Brightroar itself."

His brother's foolish notion had been something that Tywin had done all he could to dissuade. The importance of his mission to their family had allowed him to do so, or so Tywin believed. Now looking down at the map, a part of him almost hoped it had not been. Tywin liked not where his mind would go when he truly considered what fate could have befallen his brother or where Gerion may now be.

"No, they'd not dare!" he stated, moving from the table and walking now to the window that overlooked the Sunset Sea.

Closing his eyes, Tywin allowed the sea breeze to wash over his face. The feel of it almost allowed him to remember far more pleasurable days. A laugh echoing in the distant memories of his mind, a touch, a smile, even a smell, all not enough to bring an image of her to him when he sought it most. His own soft words were spoken and going unheard by any but Tywin himself.

"Joanna."

How long he stood there for, he knew not. By the time he turned around, he felt the hunger in his belly and decided to have luncheon. Tywin cared not if he was early or late to do so. His walk to the family dining room took him past the family wing and though it was not something he'd set out to do, he soon found himself outside his bastard niece's room. A quick glance to see that Joy was happy and content, was all that he allowed himself before moving on. Should his fears be proved true and had her father truly fallen, then Tywin would ensure that his brother's daughter had the life she deserved. It was a promise he'd given his brother and a debt that Gerion had required from him before setting off.

"A Lannister always pays his debts," Tywin spoke softly.

Tywin ate his meal alone and for once was disappointed to do so. Kevan was off seeing to some issues with House Swyft and some of the Mountain's Men. His brother was more than able to handle Tywin's, most rabid of dogs. While Genna and her pride had traveled to the Twins for yet another of the Old Weasel's weddings. As for his misbegotten son, Tywin knew or cared not for where Tyrion was.

'Far from my presence is always more agreeable than having to suffer the Imp in my company.'

After eating, Tywin spent the rest of the day going over some of the other matters that needed his attention. Once again, his eyes and mind turned to the North and as it always did when it looked to the Wolves, he liked not what he saw. They had grown far too powerful over the last few years. Their trade alone was now almost a match for that of the West and the Reach. While their navy was something that Tywin felt shamed by. His own fleet's rebuild had needed to be put on hold so he could further fund the Crown.

Today, however, it wasn't truly trade, power, or ships that irked him when it came to the North and the House of the Wolf. Instead, it was their ever-growing closeness with the Roses that brought the frown to Tywin's face. It had been bad enough when he'd heard that Loras Tyrell was to foster in Winterfell, but if this note was right and Tywin was certain it was, then this had been the second visit from the Rose of Highgarden to Winterfell in as many years.

"A match mayhap?" he asked himself.

Sitting at his desk, his fingers drumming against the oak, Tywin did as Tywin was oft wont to do. He played things out in his mind and let events occur without his intervention. Jon Stark and Margaery Tyrell was a match that made far too much sense. While he knew full well that it was a prince that the Queen of Thorns truly sought for her daughter, that was a match Robert Baratheon would never agree to. It left few matches that truly saw the Roses grow strong and yet, if Tywin was right, mayhap one that very much did.

Would she seek it out?

Actually, follow through with it?

Could he allow it to occur?"

If it was but a few years ago, then the answers to the first two questions would have been no. Now, however, Tywin could find no fault in naming those answers as yes. As for the last of those questions, well on that the answer remained unchanged. Not only could Tywin not allow it to occur but he most certainly would not. So loath to do so, Tywin knew he had no other choice but to make the only move that was open to him.

"A Lioness for a Wolf," he said distastefully.

In truth, he was somewhat relieved. Tywin knew full well that Robert would seek a match between his House and the Starks. He knew too that his Goodson would far prefer that match to be between the son of Eddard Stark and a daughter of his. Benjen Stark may have a daughter of an age with Joffrey, she was not and would never be the spawn of the Wolf that Robert would choose, however.

"He'd want it to be the bastard and so it must be."

That Myrcella not only allowed him to make such a match but stopped Olenna Tyrell from doing so, was the only true comfort that Tywin took from the matter. Later, however, he'd not lie to himself and say that the fact that the North now had a fleet didn't negate some of his worries about Rhaella's own. Lucerys Velaryon and the Sealord's ships acting in consort would need a large fleet to stop them. Given the Crown's continued spending, that fleet would likely not be his.

Over the next few days, Tywin readied himself to travel to King's Landing. A letter arrived from Gerion that was dated far too many moons ago to offer any truth about his brother's fate. While news of yet another failed attempt on the Dragons' lives had left him frustrated and annoyed. His Imp of a son had angered him with a request to join him on his travels. Tywin left Tyrion in no doubt that the only place he'd see him travel with him was to the Stranger's halls.

Tywin left Genna in charge of the running of the keep and bid Kevan to join him as he'd welcome his counsel and presence. All his missives were to be directed to King's Landing and should word of Gerion arrive, he was to be informed by raven immediately. Other than sorting out a betrothal, he had some other issues to take care of.

Jon Stark had shown the way with his fostering alongside more than one of the young heirs of the North. Joffrey would too benefit from having like-minded young boys around him. Family rather than Bannermen, however. Tywin wished to see if his grandson's newfound interest in the sword was paying off and whether or not it would behoove him to have the Mountain offer some of his own lessons. Joffrey may have Jaime and the Blackfish to learn the fundamentals from, yet he'd not have someone teach him how to kill better than Gregor Clegane.

'And a killer is who he may one day need to be'

With the Rock now far behind him, Tywin rode in relative silence. His mind was resolved on the things he must do, the path he must walk, and where that path eventually led to. There would be many more deaths needed before he was done. Many lives that could not be allowed to be lived without his interference. In the end, the only thing that mattered was that it would be his blood and his blood alone that ruled the Seven Kingdoms. That before he drew his final breath, Westeros would hear him roar.

'As I promised you I would, my love.'

Winterfell 292 AC.

Brandon Stark.

He sat atop the wall and ate the green apple. A gift from the Reach that he at least welcomed. It was more than could be said from the other things the Reach had sent their way. All of them were a bunch of southern fancies that Brandon had no time for. None more so than the so-called Golden Rose of Highgarden, Margaery Tyrell. A girl whose attitude grated on him and most of the fosterlings at Winterfell.

His mother had said that the more you got to know someone, the more you ended up liking them more often than not. They were words that Brandon had come to see the truth of it very quickly. Those that fostered with them had at first been strangers and had very soon become friends. Their ways had seemed odd at times but were now very much not. He, Jon, and Beth had all made true friends amongst them over time. Even the one who came from further south than any of them could ever truly imagine. Loras Tyrell proved himself to be a more than decent blade, a japester, and someone who was incredibly loyal to those he named as friends or family.

Brandon had even listened to his friend when he'd asked him to go easy on his sister. Something that Jon too had bid him to do. Both of them spoke on how different their lands were from the ones that Margaery knew so it would take her time to see the beauty of those lands that he, Beth, and Jon took for granted. Yet, three times the lady had now come to visit them and each time it felt as if they were back to square one.

If Margaery Tyrell was a student of Ser Rodrik's, and coming North was the lessons in swordsmanship she took, then she'd still be a novice in those lessons. For each time her attitude reverted back to where it had once been and nothing could change that. Never had this been made more clear than after they'd been gifted the Direwolves by the Old Gods. The lady's attitude turned even more grating to Brandon's ears and his courtesies for once had been abandoned.

They had been playing with the wolves, as were their wont. Each of them just enjoyed spending time with their familiars as Meera had named them. True enough it had been at the table during their midday meal, but none of them had ever thought of not doing so. Around the Great Hall, people looked on with fond smiles on their faces. At the High Table, his mother and father both would glance over and smirk or smile and even Lady Olenna bore a far less stern on her face than usual. Then, the Not-So-Golden-Rose decided to bitch and moan and Brandon was in no mood to listen to her.

"Can't you put the beasts in the kennel? At least when we are eating?" she had asked haughtily.

"They are harmless, Margaery." Loras sighed. "Just a little bit playful, but they have never been a problem."

"Unless you get on their nerves, which I would suggest you do not." Brandon quipped.

"Not helping, Bran," Jon said, rolling his eyes. "Listen, they will be nice to you if you are to them. Nothing more, nothing less. Give Ghost a piece of meat or bread and he will leave you alone."

"Here, you can pet Lynara, mayhap you will get more used to them?" Beth, ever the sweetheart, offered Margaery, who seemed tempted by the offer before her eyes met Jon's, and her posture tensed.

"Mayhap another time.".

Brandon understood the girl not. At times she'd look to his cousin and he'd see the beginnings of a small smile on her face because of whatever Jon was doing at the time. Then as soon as Jon looked her way, that smile would turn into a frown and Margaery Tyrell would inevitably say something to disparage the North or their ways. It grated on him and today, he could face it not. So rather than spar, Brandon had made his way to the Godswood and taken up a seat on the wall nearest the gate.

He was enjoying the solitude when they found him. The white wolf led his own grey one. Ghost and Mercy both led his cousin to him like the traitors they were. Jon said nothing and simply took a seat beside him. His cousin then reached into his hand and took the apple from it before taking a bite. Brandon did his very best to look angered and annoyed at him for doing so. Something he was unable to pull off with any great aplomb given the smirk on Jon's face.

"'Tis craven to hide, Bran, and you're no craven." his cousin, brother in all but name said and Brandon nodded.

"When are they leaving this time, Jon?" he asked, sighing once he'd done so.

"She still grates on you so?" Jon said and Brandon nodded. "A week, no more."

Brandon looked at his cousin incredulously, another week of the Tyrells was not something he could readily accept and certainly not something that brought him any joy.

"I had hoped…."

"I believe Loras' grandmother welcomes being in the North, Bran. She has come to enjoy her time here at least." Jon said somewhat happily. His cousin liked not that the Tyrells were here either and yet he was more able to accept it than Brandon was.

Something that Brandon understood not as an overheard conversation had pretty much revealed the reason why the Tyrells visited so much. A reason much different than the one Brandon had believed it to be. Although, they did too come to see Loras and how he was settling in as well.

"There are few better matches than the Lord of Winterfell, Mace. Few young men who both bring what he does to the table and who possess his unique characteristics."

"Unique characteristics, Mother?"

"That boy is polite, intelligent, and as full of the Stark's precious honor as his uncle. The boy is a handsome lad too and that will only become more apparent as he ages."

"You wish Margaery wed to him because he's handsome." Mace shook his head.

"No, I wish the option to be left open because of who he is, Mace, no more and no less."

Looking not at his cousin but at the white and grey wolves, Brandon wondered if Jon would actually go along with the idea of a betrothal to Margaery Tyrell. He hoped if he did that he'd at least wait until Brandon was in a keep of his own. The idea of having to see her every day and at every meal was not one that he found welcome.

"Come, Bran, you'll feel better after you knock someone on their arse." Jon chuckled.

"Then I'm not fighting you." he laughed back.

"I could let you win." Jon winked.

"Then I really will knock you on your arse, Jon."

By the time they rejoined the others, Jon had managed to change his mood almost completely. His cousin had a way of doing that which Brandon envied him for. Few were immune to his charms when Jon sought to raise their spirits. Beth especially being receptive to it and on the end of it far more than most. His sister was a happy young girl and yet at times, she would be denied leave to do something by their mother. At those times she'd seek Jon out and unbeknownst to anyone but Brandon, Meera Reed, and Asha Greyjoy, Jon would go out of his way to make Beth happy.

It was another thing that Brandon held against Margaery Tyrell. Even with her cousins who tried to mimic her as best they could, Jon had been able to do things that lightened their moods when they turned dark. His cousin had an almost second sense about what it was that bothered people. What concerns that they may have or what worries they may feel. Jon would then go out of his way to relieve those concerns or chase away those worries. All of which had fallen flat with the Not-So-Golden-Rose. Few things his cousin did were welcomed by Margaery Tyrell and so now Jon did fewer things for the lady.

The day's spars went their usual way. Domeric could beat any but Jon. His two cousins were the very best of them and Domeric only held his own because of his age. Loras was next and Brandon was almost on a par with the Knight of Flowers. A teasing name that Asha Greyjoy had coined for Loras and which to his credit, he'd taken in good cheer. Given his brother was known as the Gallant, Brandon would wager that Loras had more than welcomed being given an epithet of his own.

"All the great knights have one. The Bold, The White Bull, the Sword of the Morning."

Loras speaking those last two names had caused the sparring yard to come to a sudden silence. The White Bull had been one of the three men who had held their aunt prisoner. While the Sword of the Morning may be Jon's uncle by blood, he was still the man who had killed Jon's father amongst others at the Tower of Joy. His was not a name that was spoken fondly in the North and as Loras had held his hand to his mouth, it had fallen to Jon to rein in any anger the young Tyrell may face.

"All brave and true men and ones whose legends were well earned, Loras. As too will your own someday, I wager."

That had earned Jon a true smile from Margaery Tyrell. One that had gone unseen by any but Brandon and Beth. His little sister asked why the girl usually had a face like she'd eaten one of the sourer apples when she could smile like that. Brandon found he had no answer to give Beth so simply said that she was of the South and their ways were not their own. Something his little sister accepted without question. For Beth may very well love the North more than any of them.

Eventually, the week came to an end and though there was a brief moment where it seemed as if the Tyrells would stay even longer, they left as Jon had said they would. His cousin had put on his Lord's Face and spoken with them as if he was much older than his not yet ten years. While Brandon's mother and father seemed more than happy to see them go. Loras on the other hand was very much not and had it not been for Domeric, then his mood may have been a dark one. His other cousin always seemed to be the one best able to lighten whatever load Loras may carry.

"Now, 'tis just us again, mayhap I'll see more smiles on your miserable face, Brandon Stark," Jon said as they walked back into the keep.

"So says the man with the Lord's Face," he said raising his eyebrow almost how he'd seen his mother do when she wished to make her point.

"Aye, but mine Lord's Face can be put away when I wish it, what's your excuse," Jon said, and only that he ran or they'd be wrestling on the ground. All pretense at good behavior was now a thing of the past with their guests no longer staying in their halls.

The chase went on for some time. Jon always had quickness as his ally and be it atop his horse or as of now, on foot, Brandon could barely keep up with him. However, catch him he did and he had Beth to thank for it. His little sister welcomed the chance to join in their mischief and even grabbed the wet cloth for him to mush into Jon's face. Both of them rolled around on the floor of the Great Hall while around them their foster brother and sisters cheered one of the other on.

"Get him, Brandon."

"He deserves it."

"Go, brother."

"Jon."

"That's it, you can do it, Jon, escape from the wild wolf's clutches."

In the end, it was his mother who put their play to an end. Brandon managed to wipe the cloth over Jon's face more than once and his cousin smiled even when they were then chided over their actions. Their good mood lasted right through their evening meal that night. The departure of the Tyrells and their Not-So-Golden-Rose was being celebrated somewhat. At least it was in his case and he prayed to the Old Gods that they'd not return for some time if at all.

Starfall 292 AC.

Lady Jyana Reed.

Looking at the view made her nervous as much as she was impressed by it. Never in her life had Jyana thought she would travel so far beyond the Neck, yet here she was, in the home of the Kings of the Torrentine of Old. She was a simple woman from House Fenn, one of the hunter clans from the Crannogs tasked with ensuring the safety of their people and preventing the Freys from claiming any of their lands. Jyana had dutifully fulfilled what was expected of her from the moment she was old enough to learn how to use a bow. All the while waiting for the moment another role would be bestowed upon her, though she never would have expected it to be one of an envoy.

She had known for a long time that her fate would be tied to the heir of House Reed and never once questioned the elders' words about her promised husband.

Howland will change the course of history, for our people, the North, and the Seven Kingdoms. The path he will take is an arduous one, my dear, and he will need our unwavering support when the time comes. Yours more than anyone else. they had said to her after he'd left to learn more about his gift in the Isles of Faces.

Howland was as devoted to the Old Gods as Jyana was, the only time she remembered seeing his resolve falter was the day a rider came with the missive for her husband asking him to call his banners. He had told her of Lyanna Stark's fierceness, of her being the Knight of the Laughing Tree, and of his part in the tale of the meeting of the Dragon Prince and the She Wolf. A handful of men from the Crannogs answered their misguided liege's call, Howland doing so reluctantly as he felt something was not right. Had he known then what he knew now, Jyana was certain he would have done all he could to prevent all the ensuing bloodshed.

Yet it had not been the Old Gods' plans for him nor their people. He was to watch over the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms, playing a game in the shadows that not one of her kin had played so far. She was not worried about Howland's safety, though her heart would break every time he would leave her side. Jyana however, knew he was needed to protect the dragon hidden by wolves and shielded by the marshes. Yet as their family grew and she brought two children into this world, she felt her desire to uphold the vows she made to her husband in front of the Heart Tree begin to waver.

In time she'd had to let Meera leave for Winterfell. Her firstborn did not yet know of the role she would later play, and Jyana's heart broke as she said her farewell to her sweet daughter. Not having Meera by their side had been hard for Jojen and for her, though she knew her daughter was treated well and with more respect than the Crannogwoman believed she would be. While watching over Meera daily through Móna's eyes, Jyana grew to care for Jon Stark who was a nice, gentle, and compassionate young lad. Over time her heart had warmed upon seeing a friendship blossom between her daughter and the boy who had become her pupil.

Howland hadn't been surprised when Jyana found out that Meera had been the one to find the Old Gods' gifts to the Starks. The news had brought a proud smile to his face, though the one she gave about Jon being a warg seemed to surprise him a little.

"See? She was exactly where she was meant to be," he said simply.

"Is that what you foresaw? Why you sent our daughter to Winterfell? To teach him to control his ability?"

"Meera has much to do, love. 'Tis one of the many tasks she will accomplish." Howland answered and she nodded distractedly. "I know you miss her. So do I, mayhaps more than you do. After all, I was not blessed with your gift and cannot see her even from afar."

Jyana hung her head, feeling ashamed for not thinking about her husband's feelings. He had been right in saying that she had the luxury to see and hear Meera whenever she wished. Her daughter sometimes told her of her day when they met at the Godswood and she was alone.

"She misses you too. She was sad not being here for Jojen's nameday." she pointed out.

"We shall travel to Winterfell to see her soon," Howland said, making her heart skip a beat.

"Truly?"

"We promised we would visit her, and it has been two years since she's gone. She ought to see her brother other than by warging. We will go to Winterfell, though not now. The Tyrells are on their way and I have a feeling it will not go well. Moreover, I received alarming news. I need to share it with our allies."

"Which ones?" she asked, his face getting somber and her heart broke as she figured out the answer without him saying anything. "Will you go?"

"I… I have to," he said, stroking at the permanent scar the Sword of the Morning had left on his body. "The information is too sensitive for me to send anyone else, yet the thought of going back to these gods' forsaken lands… I can still see them, you know? In my nightmares. The desperation in their eyes while they breathed their last. The sorrow as they thought about how they had failed her. We all did, in a way. She failed herself more than anyone else in the end."

"You could not know, love."

"But I knew. I knew something was not right. They warned me that Winter was Coming for the Wolves and yet I did nothing to change their fate."

"You saved two of them. Benjen Stark would have been lost too if it hadn't been for your intervention. Now the Lone wolf has a full pack at his side and Winter is not coming anymore." she countered, holding his hand in support.

They'd argued so many times about this, ever since Howland came back from the war, completely broken. His inability to save Lyanna haunted him still, though probably not more than his failure to keep Ned Stark alive. He had been blinded by a vision when he'd been wanting to act, and the choice made at that moment weighed heavily on him as soon as he saw his friend's lifeless body. Jyana knew it had been for the best, that Ned Stark being alive would have changed things for the King in a bad way. She had been the one privy to Howland's recounting of the path they avoided, the one he was set on making sure would never happen. Since the end of the Rebellion, the Gods had blessed others from their clan, those who were not wargs, with green dreams. None were as detailed as Howland's, but enough for their people to all vow to follow their liege Lord and protect Aemon Targaryen by any and all means necessary.

Seeing Howland struggling with his memories and feelings to travel to Dorne had steeled Jyana's resolve. So she had then volunteered to leave in his stead, knowing that her husband would let no one else leave with the knowledge he'd shared with her. It was the first time she would separate from their son and leave the comfort of the Neck, but she was determined not to put Howland through another bout of suffering. After readying herself, Jyana said her goodbyes to her family and traveled to White Harbor to get passage to King's Landing.

She encountered no trouble on the way and tried not to get distracted by her surroundings. Some people were intrigued by her in White Harbor, as seeing a Crannogwoman was an uncommon occurrence even in the North. Yet, she was completely overlooked in the South, even mistaken as a child by the captain of the ship leading her to Planky Town. Jyana followed Howland's instructions to the letter and stayed at an inn for a few days, waiting for the right moment to board the same ship as the Daynes.

She waited some more when they arrived at Starfall, settling in the nearby village before one of her kin came to lead her inside the keep in the cover of the night.

"Wylla will help you get to the Lady," Rod said to her as the woman nodded and Jyana smiled, remembering the name of her king's wetnurse.

"My Lady." Wylla curtsied, making Jyana shake her head.

"Please, call me Jyana. I'm not -"

"You're Lord Howland's wife. I remember him. He is a nice man. If it weren't for him -"

"Let us not think about paths not taken." Jyana interrupted the other woman.

"Still, I am indebted to him, you and your kin. I am sure my Queen rests easy knowing that her dearest friend watches over everything and I can't repay you enough for all you do for her son."

Jyana nodded, feeling pride surge through her heart as Wylla led her to Ashara Dayne's chambers. She knew how much Aemon Targaryen meant to her husband and the lengths Howland went to ensure the king's protection. The repairs on Moat Cailin were supervised by his clan, as were the defenses of the causeway and the surveying of the western coast. So much had been done in the shadows, with the help of the Mermen. Howland and Wyman worked together in an unlikely alliance to ensure the eastern coast would be protected while keeps were being built and new potential trades being looked into. The North was growing and the Neck was opening to its brethren, their knowledge and help about medicinal herbs and harvesting techniques being more than beneficial to the prosperity of their liege. They would soon start exploiting the rivers to travel more efficiently and their dealings with the Free Cities were fruitful.

As she entered the empty room, Jyana steeled herself for the upcoming encounter. The news she was about to share would surely change a lot of things for Ashara Dayne and complicate things for her and her family.

"Who… Who are you? What are you doing in my room?" the woman gasped.

Jyana's breath caught as her gaze locked with the lady she was to meet. She had heard tales of the Lady of Starfall's beauty, yet never in her life had she met someone as breathtaking as Ashra Dayne. It made Jyana nervous, if not self-conscious, about the way she appeared in front of her. She had worn her usual attire, lambskin breeches and a sleeveless jerkin, with no sign of affiliation to a noble House, and Jyana wondered what the distinguished Dornishwoman would think of her at that moment.

"Apologies, my Lady. I do not wish you any harm. I am Jyana Reed and I come on behalf of my husband."

"You're Howland Reed's wife? Is there something wrong with Jon? I just read he was well!" the lady started, visibly worried.

"No, Jon is well, truly. He is well guarded, now more than ever."

"What do you mean?"

"No one told you about the direwolves?"

"Direwolves?"

Jyana could sense Ashara's distress and smiled reassuringly as she proceeded to recount the events of the direwolves' rescue. Her heart felt at ease when she realized that Howland had been right regarding Ashara's feelings toward Jon. In front of her was not someone using a child for her own gain, but rather a mother fearing for the safety of her son.

"So, you're telling me my son has a direwolf as a pet for moons now?" Ashara deduced, flabbergasted.

"Direwolves are no pet, my lady."

"Ashara," the lady pleaded, making Jyana relax while she approached her and touched her shoulder.

"Ashara," Jyana repeated. "Direwolves are companions to the Starks and a good omen to your son. All the Stark children were gifted a companion by the Old Gods, including young Benjen."

"That's… Incredible…" Ashara whispered, still in shock.

"And a good thing, I promise. Word has spread to the North about it, solidifying Jon's status as the undisputed Lord of Winterfell."

"Are you certain he's safe?"

"He is. If anything, a loyal direwolf by his side will make it harder to harm."

"Then I trust your judgment, my lady."

"Jyana."

"Jyana. Do you think… Is there a reason why neither Jon nor his regents had informed me?"

"You fear he resents you still."

"How do you -"

"He misses you, Ashara. You know he does. But he is still young and does not want to be burdened with the weight of the Seven Kingdoms."

"I do not blame him for this. I told him I would support him whatever he decides in the future, but I must ensure that everything would be ready should he want the throne."

"In this, we are the same, Ashara. Yet we may not have a choice on the matter in the end. The Gods only know what fate is ours. They were the ones who saw you fit to be Jon's mother. They mended your broken heart by filling it with a motherless boy, to make you one of his fiercest defenders."

"You sound like your husband." Ashara chuckled sadly.

"So I've been told. All I can assure you is that Jon loves you still very much, as he does the rest of his family, though his relationship with his grandmother is complicated."

"I wish I could make it better. I wish I could explain everything to him, but I am stuck here and my moves are limited."

"I will help you with that. I am set to travel to Winterfell after my visit, to see my daughter."

"Your daughter… Her name is Meera, isn't it?"

"Aye. She, like the rest of the younglings fostering in Winterfell, is very close to Jon. Your plan to strengthen the bonds with his bannermen works wonderfully. They are forming friendships that will be hard to break." Jyana said, and she smiled as she saw Ashara breathe with relief.

"The life of a Lord is a hard one, let alone one of a king. I am glad he has true friends he'll be able to count on later in his life. Leaving him has been the hardest thing I have done in my life." Ashara admitted before Jyana held her hand in sympathy.

"The burden of being a mother is to know when to let them go, yet to not do so truly. You still have a part to play in Jon's life. 'Tis not for naught that you've been back in Dorne. To bear your sister's ire and the Prince's scorn."

"How… Are you like…"

"No, I have not received the same gift as my husband. He simply confides in me. 'Tis how I know that your work here is a tenuous one and I am here to warn you."

"Do you know of Jon's grandmother's plan?" Ashara asked and the Crannogwoman nodded.

"Aye, and she is blinded by her desire to see her family safe. This will ultimately lead to their downfall if she persists in her ways." Jyana said and Ashara shivered. "Heed my words now, Ashara, for they will be the ones that save your loved ones. Alliances inside Dorne will be needed, yet whatever you tie your family to, do not do so with the snakes."

"The snakes? You mean Oberyn?"

"Dorne will not bow nor will they bend to our king's might. The only solution is for the dragons to break them." Jyana explained as she was told.

"How? How can we do this?" Ashara asked worriedly.

"Not through marriage, that is what I know. Unfortunately, the Gods do not show us the path to follow, else we would already win." Jyana answered. "My husband told me this. You have to be ready for the wave that will soon come your way, for a pact between the dragons and the sun will not be fulfilled. Dorne will once again be reminded of the sins of the dragon as the son spat on his mother's words and another oath will be broken."

Jyana watched sadly as realization dawned on Ashara.

"What has Viserys done?" the lady whispered.

"He has left to follow his path, the one that will bring him closer to his nephew. The one that will either break Dorne or doom us all."

Winter will come if Aemon Targaryen does not fulfill his song. These were the last words Jyana kept to herself from the prophecy she had heard, not wanting to put more pressure on the burdened woman.

A/N: Thanks to all who've read and reviewed. Up Next: A year is a long time in Westeros as Jon says a welcome goodbye to the Tyrells, Mace makes an unexpected move, Cersei proves she's a Lioness unafraid to roar and an unhappy wife reaches her breaking point. Meanwhile, the great game goes on as events in Essos force a queen to re-evaluate her plans and look instead to her family's happiness and a Dornish Prince bristles over yet another snub from the Dragons.

For those following my other fics: Dragonwolf Danced is up next followed by Purple Deception, Dragonverse, and Revenge is a Dish. All over the next month or so.

Missed Reviews:

Chapter 6: Matt Black: Yes, that works as well as any.

Chapter 12 Reviews.

Guest: There was a reason why Ned was so adamant that Jon was kept far from the South, he feared that people would look to him and figure things out. What saved him was that there was never really any reason to look at Jon and his story more closely, as soon as there is then there would perhaps be questions asked. Olenna is not only one of the smartest people in Westeros, but she's an astute player of the Great Game and is already intrigued in regards to Jon, yet even still she wouldn't have figured it out had Jon not gifted Margaery the Blue Winter Rose. Is it predictable that she did, yes, as it should be because it's logical that in these circumstances she would. As it would be that anyone who truly knew Rhaegar may see it in Jon if as I suspect, he looks more and more like him as he ages in the books. There is a reason why in the books Barristan didn't travel to Winterfell and Aemon is blind when Jon gets to the Wall, the reason IMO is that Jon looks more like his true father than the father everyone names as his.

Jon doesn't need permission to correspond no, yet he still shouldn't be going behind Benjen/Barbrey's back to do so, he's still a boy and they are his guardians. It would be no different if Ned was alive and Jon wished to correspond with Aemon, he needs to run it by them first. As for his marriage prospects, yes, in time no one can force Jon to wed, which is exactly the point of things. That doesn't mean that others can't make those choices for him or set him on his path, they just can't in the end force him to walk that path once he reaches his age of majority. Nothing here really goes against that, people are trying to make the choice for him and Jon is bristling for it. He bristles even more because it's his mother/grandmother that's doing it and while yes, they can't force him, he also feels they are trying to.

Clyvus: Thanks so much for saying so.

Invictus: We meant it to be the Blackfish and made the mistake of saying Barristan, both a typo because the names start with B and a little forgetful on our parts because when you make a change and don't refer to it for a little bit, you confuse even yourself.

The Sphynx: Thanks my friend, it was meant to be the Blackfish.

Rhatch: We'll see if you're right about Dom/Loras, though we too have taken note of him being completely different from his father/brother. As for Dorne, we have some fun plans regarding it.

Dunk: There is a big moment for Rhaella upcoming which will force her to put the breaks on a bit. She is so laser-focused on what she needs/wants that she's missing the fact it's affecting those she cares about too and that it can't just be Dany whom she worries about marriage alliances for. As for the dragon eggs, Dany's canon three are the ones the Sealord gifted Rhaella and so it's the black one for Dany, the green one for Rhaella, and the golden one for Viserys. Maekar's egg is the Butterwell Egg which some people think is actually Drogon, but we're saying here it's not. As for him having some Bloodraven in him, kind of. It's not that he's seeing a future Redgrass Field though, more he sees the tactical advantage that action brought to the battle. I'll say no more for now.

Varys is on the right side here, however, he's somewhat in the dark which could lead to him making a wrong move. Something he is trying to atone for in the first place. So with Jon, you could well be right, for example, if he knew what Robert had tried to do to Ashara, then he'd be going for the Throne already.

Jett Shay: We wanted at first to show how different Viserys would be with a mother's love, but over time we wanted to give him a goal, a focus and to then have him be a much different character. We'll see how he gets on. As for Maekar, not so much a MOW as we have someone else in mind for that, but yes a Master of something. Not a recognised Small Council position but something he'd be uniquely qualified for.

Anarra: Your wish is my command.