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.

15. All Roads Lead to Highgarden

Castle Black 295 AC.

Maester Aemon.

Each morning his routine was the same. When he felt on the verge of waking up, he prayed to whatever gods listening to him that he would see light when he opened his eyes. He then sat up on his bed, waited with apprehension, counted to seven, and took a deep breath before opening them.

Had it been years ago, when he thought he had lost his family, he wouldn't have minded losing his eyesight. However, from the moment he had held the small babe in his arms, the future of his fallen house, Aemon had gotten back his will to live and it had been reinforced by a need to protect the child. His days since were spent hoping that he would be able to see his nephew take back what was rightfully his with his own eyes.

Now, all the old man wanted was to remember his features, to see him once more before the light in his eyes disappeared for good.

Yet he could not ask for more than he had already been given so far.

Asking to travel to Winterfell, in his condition, would raise suspicions in the Watch. His involvement with the Regent of Winterfell may have benefitted the Order, but he couldn't offer more than some advice to help the North prosper. Lord Commander Mormont was watching him closely enough as it was. No doubt because he knew who he was. Though he had never questioned his loyalty to the Watch even once, for which Aemon was grateful. He could also count on the distraction provided by the Wildlings who were trying to flee the Great Sickness and whose efforts kept most of the Rangers busy. Thankfully, the North played its part in protecting the realm, as Most of the Houses had sent reinforcements to both Castle Black, Eastwatch by the Sea, and Westwatch by the Bridge. The rest of the realm as always remained silent on their pleas for help.

His namesake had sent his part of the taxes of the New Gift to help with a fund to buy furs, weapons, and medicine. Meanwhile, his beloved great-niece provided them with food from some part of Essos, pending the growing of the new keep's crops and cattle.

Part of Aemon felt hopeful to see his namesake when he received word that his great-great nephew was traveling to oversee the newly built keep close to the Wall. However, he feared the boy's uncle's animosity would prevent him from doing so, as well as Aemon's unpredictable eyesight. Benjen Stark may never have voiced his displeasure to him, yet Aemon knew he still resented him after what he'd done with his nephew's egg.

Hope had bloomed in the old man's heart when he'd heard how young Aemon had reacted to it, even more when news from Essos reached him about how the other children behaved with their own. He felt it as a good omen, as no others had felt the influence of the old eggs until this point. The Maester was not one to believe in the Gods' interference, and yet the timing of things lately made him truly question his beliefs.

Aegon had dreamt of bringing the dragons back to the world, going so far as to ask Aemon for his own egg, yet the Maester couldn't bring himself to part from it. He had pleaded for his brother not to do anything rash, feeling it was not yet time for dragons to be brought back to the world, but the then King refused to listen to his warnings. The tragedy of Summerhall, the deaths of so many of his kin, and the vanishing of the dragons' eggs had led to the birth of Rhaegar, whose existence changed the fate of so many. Aemon wasn't proud of what it had led to, but he couldn't deny that house Targaryen was in dire need of change. His nephews and nieces had grown too comfortable and complacent in their power, and their children after them had followed their footsteps on the dark path of decline. They had forgotten one essential thing that had made them who they were. All of them focussed too much on the fire side of their house's words and putting aside the blood of it.

Rhaella was unfortunately following in her father's footsteps, pushing away her children and grandson in the process. Despite Aemon's warnings and words of wisdom, she stubbornly stuck to what she thought was necessary until Viserys reached his breaking point. The Maester didn't blame the young man for wanting to carve his own path, welcoming his decision that brought unexpected, yet positive consequences. However, he feared that the rift between Rhaella and her children would not be mendable. Not without his grandniece realizing the errors of her ways first.

He sighed in relief as his blurry vision settled and thanked whichever god for another hopeful day. His vision was failing him since his last brush with sickness. The same one that was ravaging the tribes North of the Wall and had been brought back to Castle Black after his brothers' last ranging.

Aemon walked to the common hall to break his fast, feeling alert for once. At seven and ninety namedays, the cold affected him more than during his prime. Thankfully he was used to feeling it creep into his bones, else he wouldn't even try getting out of his bed. He had a lot to do this morning. Starting with yet more studies of the sickness to prevent it from spreading to their forces and decimating the watch when it did so.

The name itself brought back unpleasant memories. Thoughts of the Great Spring Sickness and how it had killed Aemon's grandfather and cousins, as well as four out of ten people in King's Landing, made Aemon wary of the plague that was spreading North of the Wall. The conversation he was soon engaged in with the Lord Commander proved just how true his fears and concerns were.

"We've lost another two of our brothers after they came in contact with a Wildling party trying to raid the Wall," he explained to the Lord Commander. "I firmly believe their blood was what contaminated them, for their symptoms didn't take long to appear after this."

"How about the rest of the party?" Jeor asked, frowning.

"Confined in the Grey Keep for now, until further notice."

"Are you sure it is safe for you to watch over them?" Jeor insisted.

"I'm a Maester, Lord Commander. 'Tis my duty to care and help my brothers in time of need."

"I know, but given your age, and that you just came down with an illness –" Aemon interrupted him quickly, having no wish to talk about his aches and pains, not when men were dying in his care.

"I am well. Truly." Aemon stated firmly.

"Very well. Any ranging is to be prohibited from now on." Jeor declared. "Such a shame they chose now of all times to visit."

"Visit? Who is visiting?"

"Didn't I tell you? The Starks are coming. Lord Benjen, his son Brandon, and Lord Jon." Jeor answered, making Aemon almost leap forward in his seat. "They sent word of their arrival when you were unwell. They've fought another raiding party at the Gift and wanted to discuss it further with us."

"Mayhaps it will be better if they do not come? We cannot guarantee their safety here, and we cannot risk spreading the disease in the North." Aemon's worries for his nephew were most prevalent in his thoughts and words.

"No can do, Aemon. They're already on their way. We will tell them of the situation, but they may as well have already been in contact with some infected Wildlings."

"Oh. You're right. Best they come here to share our pieces of information and inform us of their own." Aemon nodded, feeling his worry grow even more for his nephew.

He managed to keep busy with his notes and activities as a Maester before the arrival of the Stark's retinue. Looking at Jon Stark smiling sadly at him, Aemon got transported to the past. His dark hair and dark eyes made him look like Baelor Breakspear reborn, and Aemon wished he would never share his fate.

Later he learned, as Benjen Stark came to his quarter to send a message to his wife, that the lad had been fighting and had killed his first man during the skirmish against the Wildlings.

"Jon has had trouble sleeping ever since," Benjen admitted. "He feels bad for the Wildlings, given the sickness they are trying to flee. Yet he is conscious too that the Wall has been placed for a reason and that we cannot allow them to plunder our lands and break the law as they see fit."

"I have some dreamwine, if you wish I can –"

"I thank you, Aemon, but I fear this would hinder more than help. I had hoped neither Brandon nor Jon would have to bear this weight for a long time, yet it seemed nothing I prayed for happened as I wanted."

"Nothing usually does," Aemon said and Benjen chuckled. "How's your son?"

"Better than I thought he would be. Oh, he too heaved the contents of his stomach when he realized what had happened, which I must say relieved me, to be honest."

"It shows that he values human life and only acted on instinct." Aemon deduced to a nod from Benjen. "You raised them well, Benjen. But you cannot protect them all their lives."

"Would that I could –"

"I know. At least they are prepared and well-equipped to face the harsh reality of the life they are to lead. The North is a most dangerous place to live. With the Wildlings, the weather, the sickness coming from beyond the Wall. and yet your people are adapting and thriving against all odds. 'Tis, my lord, is the best you could have done for them all."

"About this sickness… Most of the Lords said not to worry much about it, yet Jon believes we should learn more about it should it cross the Wall one day, and I agree."

"He is smart and astute," Aemon noted proudly. "I shall send my findings to Luwin in Winterfell and keep you informed shall I learn anything of import.

"Thank you. Jon worried a lot about you, you know?" Benjen sighed. "He was the one suggesting we head to the Wall."

"He was?" Aemon repeated, surprised.

"Aye. He wanted to see you and make sure you had truly recovered. You gave him quite a scare when he heard you were ill."

"I am an old man. He shouldn't worry about my nearing time."

"The lad is quite stubborn, mind you. And I don't think he wants to lose more family. Moreover, it would be a loss to all of us, truly." Benjen countered as Aemon's heart filled with warmth at seeing they reached, if not a friendship, a true understanding of each other.

It took another day for Jon to come and see him, pretexting the need to use the rookery to do so. As the lad hugged him tightly, Aemon realized how true Benjen's words had been.

"Rest easy, young one. I've survived a plague and five cooks at the Wall. Each one was more awful at cooking than the previous one. You will not get rid of me easily." Aemon japed.

"I heard the broth they'd served us yesterday was one of their best."

"So now you know I can withstand everything."

"Aye. I'm glad you're feeling better, Maester. And to see you once more. It has been a long since your last visit from Winterfell."

"Indeed, and I'm truly sorry for not visiting. There hasn't been any excuse for doing so." Aemon explained. "Besides the Wildlings' raids, that no one can foresee, you and your uncle have been ruling your lands well."

"The book you sent me has been really helpful."

"And you came out with a truly amazing idea for yourself. Your grandmother was truly impressed, as was I."

"About that, I'm sorry I had to use you for my latest request."

"Do not be! I was happy to help. It gave me a reason to reach out to them without looking too greedy for information." Aemon laughed.

"I was wondering if you had any news from… You know…" Jon started shyly, making the old man smile.

"Not since you asked me to do so, I'm afraid."

"I see…"

"News came more regularly before, but now that my eyes fail me, we do not correspond much more than needed. Were you to resume yours, then mayhaps…" Aemon began but even with his eyesight failing him he could see that Jon had no intention to do so.

"I hope you do not hold me in contempt for not sending letters to them anymore. Ever since he left, I can't help but feel angry at her, as well as worried for him and the others. " Jon explained, looking miserable.

"I understand, though I think the rest of the family would love to hear from you."

"I… I don't know. What if they think it's my fault if he left?"

"Do you think it is?"

"Sometimes I do. If I weren't here, if she hadn't made these plans because of me, mayhaps he would still be with his kin."

"Do you know the true meaning of Fire and Blood?" Aemon asked and Jon shook his head. "Some people think these words are keys to the hatching of dragons. Some others think it is part of a forgotten recipe to create Valyrian Steel. Others believe Aegon had chosen these words to show the realms what would befall them should they not accept his rule."

"Which one is it?" Jon questioned, curiosity etched on his face.

"Neither. Fire and Blood are the essence of House Targaryen. Not in a literal sense. But it is what made House Targaryen survive the Doom of Valyria. It was what made them thrive as Dragonriders and become a force to be reckoned with. Fire is part of who they are, their instinct. What makes them dream sometimes."

"You mean the dragon dreams?"

"Indeed."

"What about the blood?"

"While Daenys' vision was what prompted her father to sell his holdings and flee Valyria, it was the complete trust in his daughter's abilities that pushed Aenar Targaryen to act as he did. While it was dragons that helped Aegon's conquest of Westeros, it was his unity with his sisters-wives that made everything possible.

"So, blood is… Family?"

"More like unity in the family. Cohesion was the thing that kept House Targaryen thriving, and each bad thing that happened to us and the realm always resulted from dissension amongst ourselves."

"I see."

"I am not telling you this to force your hand, lad. I just want you to embrace who you are."

"I… I don't know who I am." Jon confessed.

"'Tis perfectly normal to be conflicted. But who you are will never change. You are your parents' son. You uncles and aunts' nephew. A grandson. Not yet a man. Two sides of a coin, one you know more than the other."

"I wish I could know more about the other side, but I cannot. Not without endangering us all." Jon sighed.

"Yet as much as there is Stark blood in you, and the Gods know I can see it clearly when you are with your cousin, I also see a lot of my brother in you. I pray you do not bury the other part that makes you who you are."

"Your brother?"Jon frowned.

"Egg was always trying to do what he thought the best for the masses. He lost himself in wanting to please everyone. I do not wish the same to happen to you."

"You named your brother Egg?" Jon frowned.

"Aye, I did. Egg hated this name, yet it served him well when he needed it, just as Jon suits you now. He was a dutiful squire to a knight of legend, and this knight in turn served him when the time came for him to become King Aegon." Aemon said. His heart warming as he thought back to the time with his brother.

"Will you tell me more about him?" Jon asked tentatively.

"I would be honored to do so," Aemon responded truthfully.

"Thank you, Uncle."

Aemon tried not to cry at the endearing way his nephew named him Somehow he managed to keep the tears at bay. For it was the first time his namesake ever acknowledged him as such. As true family. And there was nothing he had wished to hear more than this word ever since he'd held the boy in his arms.

His great-great-grand nephew. His pride and joy. The future of his House.

Winterfell 295 AC.

Bethany Stark.

"By the Gods! Look at you! We just mended your breeches two days ago!" Barbrey's horrified scream forced her daughter to bow her head in shame.

"I know, I am very sorry, Mother," Beth said sullenly.

"I swear, I cannot leave you unsupervised for five minutes without you making a mess?"

"We were supervised! We were playing running at the rings!"

"You have mud all over your face… And your hair is all tangled again!" Barbrey lamented.

"But it was worth it. We won! I caught the ring!" Beth replied, excitement bubbling through her voice as she remembered how she had done so.

"Best you win if you had to get through all this trouble," Barbrey smirked, making the girl sigh in relief. "But now, we will have to draw you another bath. Did you forget which day was today?"

Horror gripped Beth as she remembered the date. Her father, brother, and cousin were supposed to arrive home from their journey. So as custom would have it, all of them had to be on their best behavior to welcome the Lord of the Winterfell back to his keep.

"I'm sorry, Mother, I didn't think –"

"You're right, you didn't. But you're not the only one at fault here, though you were already bathed compared to the others." Barbrey chided. "Now go warn them properly this time to get ready. Do not get any more dirt in your hair, young lady!"

Beth nodded and ran back to the sparring yard, where her friends were still arguing about the fact that her team had won thanks to her. She had arrived in the middle of the game and had run straight into it to join her cousin's ranks, as she'd done multiple times before. With a lift from Loras, she'd swiftly risen to catch the ring and turn the tide in their favor.

Domeric, Loras, and Asha, so used to her antics as they were, just included her in the game. While Daryn and Larence, the brothers from House Hornwood, had whined and moaned as usual about the unfairness of the situation. As too had the Tallhart cousins, Benfred and Brandon.

"You weren't whining when you were the ones with numerical superiority, were you?" Domeric japed, his smirk and mannerisms matching Loras' at that moment.

"Still, you agreed to a fair fight, how is it fair to add an opponent in the middle of the game?" Benfred retorted.

"You've been here for what, a year now? And you're still not used to our ways?" Loras countered. "Moreover, if Syrio were here, he would tell you that nothing is fair in games or war."

"He's just annoyed because he once again was beaten by a team with ladies in it!" Beth claimed, joining in the banter.

"Ladies? I see none of that here. Only a wild thing and an old maiden." Daryn spat.

"You take that back, stupid!" Beth roared, ready to pounce on her rival, only to be stopped by her direwolf.

"See? Even your wolf is more ladylike than you." Daryn laughed, joined by the rest of his losing team.

"Which makes your loss even more the pity, if you see it that way." Domeric chimed in, winking at his cousin and putting down the fire inside her. "Care for another round? I wouldn't mind showing you the error of your ways by winning again."

"I'm in. There's nothing more satisfying than the raging whines of sore losers in the morn." Loras added playfully.

"Unfortunately, we will have to postpone the rematch for now." Beth sighed loudly.

"Why is that? Are you afraid of losing fairly this time?"

"Not that we ever lose against you for that matter, but nay. I was supposed to call you for your bath time before I got enrolled in the game. We have to get ready for the welcoming party."

"Oh… OH!" Domeric shouted, realizing now the extent of her blunder, while the others scrambled to put away the mess around them. "How cross was Aunt Barbrey when she saw you?"

"I'll survive."

"I guess I'll have to help out with your hair." Asha sighed, shaking her head.

"Sorry?" Beth said, smiling sheepishly.

"Do not be. Seeing those fuckers' faces when they lost is more than worth the grief." Asha smirked.

"As I said, nothing more satisfying." Loras chuckled to a shake of Domeric's head.

They went their separate ways, Asha dragging her for their bath while the boys went to the communal baths as they always did after rough sparring. On her way, she could hear some servants despairing about her physical appearance, as if they weren't used to seeing her this way.

Apart from Wylla Manderly who kept her sword training to the basics, all of her female companions enjoyed roughhousing. She missed them a lot at that moment, as most of them had taken the opportunity to visit their families while Jon was away visiting the New Gift's finished keep. While, as always, Meera had decided to travel with him.

Part of Beth felt jealous for she hadn't been allowed to do so herself. She too wished to see more of the North as her older brother did, but her mother had explained how relieved she was to have Beth stay in Winterfell. Barbrey left her in no doubt that she wanted her where she could see her and would not allow her too close to the increasing Wildling incursions that were happening lately.

"Would that I could, I would forbid both Jon and Bran to leave too. Yet they are older than you and your father thinks your brother should be as involved as your cousin in Northern affairs."

"Because he will hold a keep soon?" Beth asked.

"Aye. Work in Moat Cailin is soon to be done and Brandon has to learn how to do things on his own. In a few years, both Jon and Bran will take their places as true lords, and your father and I will hold the New gift in Ben's name."

"What will become of me?" Beth said apprehensively. "Will I come with you or stay in Winterfell?"

"I doubt Jon will argue against you staying here if it is your choice. Though by the time we'll leave you'll probably be betrothed."

"Me?" Beth gasped. "Is… Has anyone asked for my hand already?"

"You've known most of your potential suitors already, though I doubt any of them wish for your hand after what you keep putting them through." Her mother smiled fondly before continuing. "Do not worry too much about it. We may have to find Jon and Bran a wife first, and you know that doing so for them is no small feat. You know too how your father gets when we speak of marriage." Barbrey answered and Beth nodded distractedly.

Her father had declared more than once, and in no uncertain terms, that no child of his would be forced into a marriage agreement they did not wish for. Beth knew too that was not a very common stance in nobility. Marriage was a means to reinforce ties between Houses and her parents' union showed how well it could turn out. Yet it was previous events in the North and amongst their own House that had solidified Beth's father's stance.

"Not everyone is as fortunate as we are, my sweet child. Marriage can be a somber affair and people can react very strongly once involved in a match." Beth's mother had said after the scandal caused by Lady Lynesse's disappearance.

Not until her discussion with her mother had it occurred to Beth that she soon would be asked to think of one for herself. She had only just celebrated her ninth nameday, and the thought of having to leave her home to get married disturbed her greatly. Almost as much as the thoughts of the same regarding the rest of her family and friends.

Jon was on his thirteenth nameday, soon a man-grown and the future Warden of the North. Her father's regency was set to end when Jon would reach six and ten. Brandon was a year younger, but Domeric was almost two years older than Jon and his fostering would end by the next year if the rumors were true. Her uncle Roose wanted him back at the Dreadfort to perform his duties as his rightful heir. She wondered if Loras would still wish to stay when Domeric would leave and found herself not wanting to know the answer to this question. Nor did she want her cousin to go either if she was being honest with herself.

Beth hadn't realized how close she was to the two of them until she feared seeing them leave. Domeric was her family, yet at times she felt closer to him than she was to Bran and Ben. Mayhaps it was because he knew how to humor her, and he never whined when she would ask for a spar. Though Jon did the same, however, their bond wasn't as strong.

There was something about her other cousin, something Beth couldn't name that seemed to force him away from them. Jon was sometimes withdrawn while Domeric was very much not, and while she understood the pressure of being the future Lord of Winterfell was part of the problem, it was Domeric who told her what it was that set them apart.

"Jon lost his father, Beth. As I did my mother. Neither of us knew them, yet as we mourn them and bond over our losses, I can freely enjoy my love from my remaining family."

"What do you mean?" she frowned.

"His father's passing was at the hands of his other kin. You know how the Daynes are regarded here, do you?" he'd said and she had nodded. "He cannot have his mother with him because of it. He loves her, you know he does. Remember why Daryn Hornwood was sent back to his keep?"

"Aye, he was saying awful things about Aunt Ashara." Beth spat. "It surprised me that Jon agreed to take him back."

"Because the Hornwoods apologized on his behalf and sent Larence to foster with him."

"And Jon got to humiliate him in the sparring yard. Both of them. The Hornwoods are stupid anyways. They do not learn from their mistakes."

"True, but we're straying from the point," Domeric said, mussing her hair. "Jon loves his mother, but he cannot do it openly, for his maternal side had a hand in the downfall of his paternal one."

"I've… I've never thought of it this way…" she admitted. "How awful it must be for him!"

"Aye. There's naught more tragic than to be torn because of who we love." Domeric said wistfully, an odd look on his face which was only removed by her question.

"Can we do anything to help him?"

"Being there for him is good enough, dear cousin."

"Then I will be, as I am for you!" she stated firmly.

"I know you are, and I thank you, my lady. Know that I too am here for you and will protect your honor, always." Domeric ended with a bow, making her roll her eyes.

"I can protect myself, Stupid," she grumbled.

"This I also know, Silly girl."

Pain brought her back from her remembrance, and she smiled as Asha apologized for tugging too much at her hair. The Iron Born hostage was like an older sister to her, though Beth wondered sometimes if she truly cared about her.

"Have you written to your Mother yet?"

"No." Asha simply replied.

"You should. She must be worried."

"I know, but… It's not like I have much to say to her, apart from that I'm still alive." Asha shrugged.

"And she'll be most happy to know this."

"You sound so much like Jon. This solemn tone doesn't suit you." Asha snorted.

"He made me promise to make sure you would reply to your mother before he gets back, and you will make me look bad now," Beth grumbled.

"I'll tell him that you tried your best, Little Wolf."

"Told you already, Ben is the Little Wolf. Not me," she said, mildly annoyed by the nickname.

"Right. You're the Feisty Wolf. Brandon is the Daring Wolf and Jon the Silent One." Asha mocked. "You're still a bunch of cubs to me."

"I'd rather be a feisty wolf than a babe!" Beth retorted, sticking her tongue at the older girl.

"You're still a babe. You've not flowered yet."

"And I have no intent on doing so! Why would I?" Beth's nose scrunched up in disgust at the thought.

"No woman wants to flower. I know I didn't. Yet the Drowned God saw fit to curse me with this."

"At least you don't have to get married, you're safe here." Beth retorted before frowning as she felt Asha's mood change. "Asha?"

"Safe. Right. Safe is exactly what I would say I am. Unwed, at the glorious age of twenty, yet bound to a keep and the will of a boy Warden. Playing with a girl of nine Namedays who isn't even mine own, instead of sailing on my own ship with a whole crew to order."

"Asha, I didn't mean –"

"I never thought of getting married, but now I hate having been stripped of that choice. If that meant being able to see my mother once again, I would have gladly done so."

"I'm sorry," Beth said, feeling bad for her friend, her sister for that's how she at times thought of Asha.

"Enough with this emotional nonsense! What do you think Jon brought you this time?" Asha asked and the girl humored her by giving out foolish answers until the prisoner's spirits were changed for the better.

The feast that night was lively, Beth finding out how much she had missed her kin as she enjoyed their presence and the tales of the Wall. Lynara and Magnar also looked happy to find their brothers back, as all the wolves played together loudly outside of the Hall.

Beth's father watched over everything from the High Table, with her uncle Roose sitting next to him. Domeric had been surprised to see his father arrive earlier and her cousin seemed unsettled by his presence.

Roose had taken Jon and their retinue by surprise on their way back from the Wall, both Beth's cousin and brother commenting on the timing of their meeting on the road.

"He had asked us strange questions and got Uncle Ben agitated," Jon said sadly to Domeric.

"What kind of questions?" her other cousin asked.

"About your place in Winterfell. How close to us you were, and to the other ladies as well."

"I figured as much." Domeric sighed. "He was very cross to hear of Daryn's betrothal to Alys Karstark."

"I would be cross too, on Alys' behalf," Beth grumbled, her dislike for the boy evident.

"Be nice, cousin." Jon and Domeric said in concert, before chuckling and shaking their heads.

"This is me being nice."

"Father asked me if I had set my sight on someone here in his last letter. I think he is getting desperate because of my lack of response and I fear the punishment." Domeric said, making Beth shiver.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Jon offered and Beth's cousin shook his head.

"I delayed my fate for too long, cousin. It was nice while it lasted." Domeric sighed once again.

"We will think of something. I promise." Jon said, tapping his shoulder.

Beth's heart had almost broken upon seeing her cousin's resigned stance. That Loras' demeanor mirrored Domeric's once again had only furthered her heartbreak.

She was well aware of the rumors surrounding the both of them. Their closeness and appreciation for music and jousting were known to all, yet only a few people knew of Domeric's heart like she did. Jon being one of them. Beth was fiercely protective of her family and her reactions to some of the taunts directed at Domeric made it worse for him to hide his affection. While most of her female friends didn't mind frequenting the heir of the Dreadfort, she doubted that they would be as understanding were they to be his wife.

Domeric would do his duty to his father, as Roose Bolton was not a man anyone wished to stand against. He just needed to find someone willing to accept him as he was.

For days, Jon, Brandon, and Beth thought about a potential bride for Domeric. They ruled out the Mormonts, as their status within the realm had fallen because of the shame brought upon their name and Roose would not associate with them. Nor would he with the Forresters or the Whitehills. In the end, they came down with a list of five names.

Wynafryd Manderly, Robyn Cassel, Meera Reed, Lyarra Umber, and Jeyne Poole.

"Father looks down on the Crannogmen, so Meera is out of the question." Domeric lamented. "Robyn, obviously pines for Bran's affection."

"Truly?" Brandon gasped, surprised by this declaration.

"You can be so dense sometimes, cousin. Both Robyn and Jory like you." Jon smiled fondly.

"I… I've never…"

"Now you know, do what you want with this information." Domeric winked at her brother.

"So it leaves Jeyne Poole," Beth said.

"This will not do." Jon declared. "Jeyne is of lower status, and she will never agree to play a mummery of sorts."

"This is pointless," Domeric said. "There is no ideal solution."

"You just need to settle a betrothal to have your father get off your back, right?" Beth asked, suddenly thinking of something.

"Aye, but –"

"Then I volunteer."

All of her kin looked pointedly at her, and she suddenly felt self-conscious.

"No." Domeric hammered, making her jump.

"Why not? It's just a betrothal!"

"You are way too young to make this kind of decision by yourself." Domeric countered.

"Father will refuse to even think about it. As Dom said, you are too young." Brandon added.

"This is my choice. This is what I want."

"I will not have it, Bethany. I thank you for your suggestion, but I will not condemn you to waste your life away so mine could be better." Domeric stated firmly.

"I have not flowered yet. We cannot be wed before I do. It will give you time to think about your future."

"Do you realize what you are saying? What if you fall in love with someone? How do you think our parents will react when we break the betrothal later?"

"Why are you being so obtuse about it?" she yelled as tears filled her eyes.

"Because you are playing right into my father's hands! This is what he wanted from the start! To trap you into being my wife! He will never give you up if you start this, Beth. And I will have no part in this mummery!" Domeric yelled back before storming out of the room.

"What just happened?" The girl gasped and shook her head, confused as to what her cousin meant. Looking around and seeing Jon and Bran's somber faces, it seemed they knew exactly what was going on.

"I think it's time for us to talk about your political status, cousin." Jon sighed before opening her eyes to things she had never thought about.

As the only daughter of House Stark, the only female relative of the Warden of the North on his father's side, she was highly sought after and not only in the North. That King Robert was considering her for his son almost sent her into a panic attack. Beth now suddenly understood her father's insistence on letting her choose her husband, as he didn't want her to become a political pawn to be used to gain favor from Jon.

"Your uncle has been relentless in a match between you and Dom for as long as I can remember," Jon confessed.

"Why didn't you tell me before? Why didn't Father?"

"Dom is right, you're still young, and none of us wanted you to feel pressure in your interactions with your friends and family. 'Tis a lot to handle when you know what is expected of you from society." Jon spoke almost as if he too faced the same pressure and Beth wished to speak to him to find out why that was, only for Brandon's words to stop her from doing so.

"Aye. The last thing we wanted was for you to feel how we did." Brandon added.

"But in the end, I will be expected to wed anyway."

"Not if your father has something to do with it." Jon smiled, mussing her hair. "He doesn't want me to wed, and King Robert has been pestering him for a match with his daughter as well."

"I swear, between him, the Tyrells, and the Freys, you have a lot of Southron lords tugging at your tail!" Brandon teased Jon before being elbowed in the ribs.

"And you're the wolf that every northern girl pines for. Come, Lord Brandon, dance with me! Have a taste of my pie! I made it myself!" Jon clapped back mockingly.

"As if they weren't doing the same to you! Oh, Jon, I want to experience the hot springs of Winterfell, care to join me?"

"Enough, gods," Beth said disgustedly.

"That Tyrell wench was all over you, I swear."

"Who, Margaery?" Jon asked, frowning.

"No, the cousin."

Beth watched the cousins continue their banter as if she truly saw them for the first time. She didn't realize how burdened they all felt, and their sharing of their experience made her see them all in a new light. Her life was more complicated than she thought. Politics and maneuvering were not something she was aware of until this point, and she didn't realize how sheltered she had been from all of this by her family.

Asha is right, I'm a babe still.

She began questioning every interaction she had had so far. How Larence would try to get on her good side ever since Daryn's betrothal. Her friendship with Lucan, Torrhen Karstark, and Kyle Flint. Were they trying to woo her? To be close to her so she would want to marry them? Lucan would never. He was too busy kissing the soil before and after Meera's passage to notice another girl. But the others…

"Don't let it get to your head, Beth." Jon startled her. "I know what you feel, and it's not entirely true. Aye, some boys would try to do their parents' bidding, but so far everything you've lived, every friendship you have is genuine."

"How can you be sure?"

"Grown-ups are the ones who truly play games, Beth. Trust your instincts on this, and Lynara's too." Jon answered.

"Lynara?"

"Your wolf will never let anyone feed you horseshit. She is your protector, as Mercy is mine. You should have seen him scare away Serena Umber!" Bran laughed.

"It was indeed a sight to behold," Jon said, proceeding to retell the tale to her and making her forget about her worries for a moment.

The days following her conversation with Jon, Brandon, and Domeric were most intense for Beth. As much as she wanted to follow Jon's advice, she found herself second-guessing every interaction she had with people outside of her family. As if that wasn't enough, Domeric decided to distance himself from her, making the young girl's heart break even more. He was cold towards her and even refused to pick her in one of their games. His sudden rejection was hard to take for Beth. She missed their banter, their closeness, and she wondered if things would ever be the same between them.

Her parents had noticed the changes and asked about it, to her dismay. She had to lie about it, stating that Domeric was preoccupied by his father's presence only. For the first time in her life, she found it hard to confide in her mother and felt that neither of her parents would be able to help her feel any better.

Each day passing made her grow sad, to the point that she did not enjoy sparring and spending time with her friends anymore. Beth even pretended to have caught a chill to stay in her rooms, huddled with Lynara, but she knew there was no fooling her mother or her cousins.

She had hoped Domeric would come to her, yet she was surprised to see someone else instead.

"Loras?" she gasped, sitting straight on her bed as Lynara huffed in annoyance at the change of position. "How? Why?"

"Jon is waiting for me outside. I asked Domeric to join us but he refused."

"Of course he would," Beth said sadly.

"He told me what happened between you two. He is stubborn, that one. A true Northerner, as is his most darling cousin." Loras smiled fondly at her.

"I don't understand why he hates me now." she lamented. "I was just trying to help, and now he doesn't even want to talk to me."

"This has nothing to do with you and everything to do with him. He fears that you would sacrifice too much and that he is not worth it."

"But –"

"I know he is. But I agree with him that you are too young to take this decision." Loras cut her off, smiling sadly.

"I'm the best choice he has of a bride. I know how he is and I love him this way."

"And I thank you for supporting him and loving him truly. But –"

"Everything you say before the word but is horseshit, you know this," she grumbled.

"You may think it's a good solution now. But only because you haven't found love yet." Loras continued.

"What if I never do?"

"What if you do?"

"Why is it important anyway?" she sighed loudly.

"You're right, it isn't. Not for me anyway, since I will be leaving soon."

"What?" she yelped, her heart beating in a frenzy.

"I've received word from home. My brother Garlan is getting married and my presence is required. Margaery added a word asking for me to spend some time with her in Highgarden after the wedding, and… I think it's for the best if I stay there."

"You won't come back?" she asked and he shook his head. "But your fostering –"

"Ever since I came to Winterfell, I have been far too selfish. I never once went back home because I feared they would keep me there and I wished it not. I loved being here with you all and so I never wanted it to end. Not even when I broke my sister's heart more than once did I feel as guilty as I do now, knowing you would do all you could to make us happy. Your actions showed me that it is high time we stop being selfish and start acting as we shall, as is expected of us."

"I'm not selfless! I don't want you to leave! I don't want Dom to leave either!" she cried, overwhelmed by her sadness. "Why are you doing this? Why do things have to change?"

"I won't be leaving now. We still have time to enjoy together. Moreover, Jon has received a formal invitation to the tourney celebrating Garlan's wedding. Mayhaps you can travel with us? Visit Highgarden and let me show you the beauty of my home, for once?" Loras suggested with a strained voice.

"You won't change your mind, will you?" she asked, the only answer she received being a warm hug from her friend.

Nothing more was said between them, and when Jon came inside her room, he found his cousin still in Loras' arms, not wanting to let him go. Without a word, he joined them in their embrace, until Beth's tears dried out as her heart found a new resolve.

For too long had she been shielded by those around her. She needed to do as her kin and take the matter of her life in hand. Beth would find a way to help those she cared about. As she knelt in front of the Heart Tree, she prayed to her ancestors for the wisdom to do what she must do and the strength to stand up for those she cared about when the time was right.

The Disputed Lands 295 AC.

Viserys Targaryen.

Viserys was in dire need of a warm bath. His sore muscles almost shouted for it, yet he was in no position to get one now. They had fought for two days on behalf of Myr to defend their foothold against Tyrosh and had crushed the opposite side by hitting them in the dead of night. A ruse he was not proud of but knew was necessary, given their numbers were smaller than those of their enemy.

Through the years, Viserys had learned that while honor was something to hold dearly while speaking of diplomacy, it was not always applicable when it came to saving yourself. He was sure Arthur would disapprove of the methods of his contingency. However, what his mentor thought at that moment was the least of his problems.

He knew too that he would need to talk to his captain about their recruitment methods, as once again Viserys had found himself at the receiving end of a dagger meant to end his life. How they managed to find him, he knew not, since only the captain knew about his real identity, and he had made sure to dye his hair and change his mannerisms ever since he left the comfort of his family's palace. Yet the Usurper's minions had still found their way into his battalion. At first, he had had only to fight off one or two assassins, but now they were coming in greater numbers. It was not something that could be let stand for long, not if he wished to live long enough to see his nephew crowned.

"How many did we lose tonight?" his Commander asked in High Valyrian as the healer looked over at his wounds.

"Less than a fifth. Five by my hands." Viserys responded in kind.

"Again?" the commander exploded.

While Viserys was busy fending off his opponents, five members of his own company had turned on him and tried to end his life. Viserys was thankful to have learned water dancing, even if only barely, for if he hadn't he would surely be dead that day. They'd managed to corner him on both sides of the fight. Get him alone and that alone should have been enough to bring about his end. Instead, he had gotten out with but a swollen eye and a superficial stab in his thigh.

"You need better men. Who recruited them this time?" Viserys asked.

"I believe it was Orson." the Commander answered; making him roll his eyes.

"Next time I shall be the one to choose them."

"And you think you'll have better luck not attracting those who wish you harm?" the Tattered Prince frowned.

"Do you have a better idea?"

"Mayhaps it's time for you to leave the company."

Viserys leaped from his seat, groaning in pain as the needle the healer was using to patch him up was still buried into his flesh.

"Commander! You can't be serious?"

"Leave us." Rags, as his commander was a times fondly known, now ordered in the common tongue to those who were in the tent and Viserys sighed as they complied without a word. "It's getting more and more dangerous for you out here, lad." Rags continued in High Valyrian.

"I'm one of your best fighters!"

"What good does that do me if you're dead? You're putting yourself and the rest of the company at risk."

"I'll be more careful, I swear!" Viserys said with desperation. "Please, do not make me go back. You better than anyone else know what it feels to not be in charge of your fate."

"Yet you're forcing my hand on this." Rags sighed and shook his head. "You will not go back to Braavos, will you?"

"No. If you chase me away, I'll find another company to join."

"And which one do you think will accept you? Your mother's men all sent word around Essos and I'm the only one who did not mind them."

"Then I will found mine own." Viserys declared.

"With what men? You can't even trust those in this company not to turn against you. Will you steal my people just so you won't go home?"

"I won't, but –" Viserys stopped, the throbbing pain in his leg making him wince.

"Get some rest, lad. We will talk more on the morrow."

"I won't be able to sleep and you know this."

"Meris will guard your tent. for the night. You know nothing gets past her." Rags said and Viserys nodded. "Next time, try to keep one of them alive, so she can make him talk.

"We already know who sent them. How they know where to find me is meaningless at this point. Wait, did you say next time?"

"Good night, Aldon." his kinsman smirked before leaving Viserys to his thoughts. Both of them for now used names that were not their own and Viserys wondered which of them would revert to their true ones before the other.

He knew how unreasonable and selfish he was at that moment. Some of his companions had been hurt because of him, though none of them ever asked any questions as to why people wanted him dead. Something that he might have to thank the Tattered Prince for as well as for welcoming him into the company in the first place.

Viserys remembered how thankful he'd been to find the Windblown when he'd left Braavos. He had cut his hair and dyed it just after leaving the Palace, but he still struggled to get out of the city, for his mother's husband had sent men on each road to bring him back. Stuck in an inn, with the coin in his purse diminishing as he had to pay for a room to hide in, he felt his despair grow as days passed. He had so naively thought he could get away that he didn't realize how much influence his family had around Essos. All of the companies he had asked to join had refused him, distrusting any stranger as the Sealord seemed to be looking for someone.

"The bounty is said to be a thousand gold coins for the man." someone on the table next to Viserys said.

"I wonder what he's done for the Sealord to give away that much." a rather terrifying woman added.

"He may have tried to hurt his family." the man answered.

"I've heard stories of what the Holy did to those coming from Westeros to kill the Dragon Queen. They would not need to pay if it was an assassin." the woman retorted.

"True, plus they want this one alive and unharmed."

"Still, he must be someone important to the Sealord. The man puts a lot of effort into finding him, so I say we stay a little more and find him ourselves." the man said, his tone sending shivers down Viserys' spine.

"I will not sell one man to another." the oldest man at the table declared. "I am all for getting a lump sum if I have a contract, but this, this will not do."

"Why doesn't it surprise me, Rags?" the woman sighed loudly.

"It's Commander Rags, to you, Meris. And I'd rather offer the man a place in our company than sell him as a slave."

This prompted Viserys to look in surprise at the one talking and he shivered as he saw him looking pointedly in his direction. Panic overwhelmed him and he quickly grabbed his things to run back to his rooms.

Had he been found out? Would his stepfather's men soon rush to get to him in the inn? Mayhaps he should leave and take his chances in another establishment?

No, he felt the man was being truthful when he spoke. As if he'd lived through something that had cemented his beliefs. His tone had been firm and it reminded him of Ser Arthur when he would try to impart some lessons. or other.

Viserys decided then to take a leap of faith and talk to the man when he would have the occasion. He had nothing to lose at this point, at worst he would be back to the Sealord's Palace and given a stern scolding from his mother but at best…

At Best, He would be free.

When he got to the man, his bravery almost failed him, yet there was something akin to encouragement in the commander's gaze that prompted him to talk.

"I heard you were looking for men."

"Aye. We are. Do you know how to fight?"

"A pretty boy like that would only benefit the pleasure houses." the scary woman from earlier retorted

"Yet I am sure I can stand my own facing you. I won't presume I would win, but I can fight."

"Don't taunt Meris, you would not survive doing so." another man less old than the Commander yet still obviously seasoned chuckled.

"He's full of bite. I like that. But I wonder why you would want to join us." the woman named Meris said.

"I thought there were no questions asked." Viserys countered.

"True. You'll be paid little and will find no glory in the company. We are not the Company of the Rose or the Golden Company. We are accepting only whichever contract will feed us."

"I am fully aware. I still want to join."

"And your name is –"

"A-Aldon, Commander."

"Then welcome to the Windblown, A-Aldon." the Commander said, shaking his hand, and Viserys tried not to look out of place when he realized who the man was.

He had learned a lot through Barristan, Arthur, and Bonnifer regarding the sellsword companies. When speaking on the Windblown, they had broached the subject of its founder, the Tattered Prince, who had joined the Second Sons after having refused the title of Prince of Pentos and what it entailed for his life. That they had crossed paths suddenly felt for Viserys as a push of fate in the right direction, and as he lay in his bed caressing his dragon egg that night, he thanked it for giving him the strength he needed at that moment.

Now, he groaned as he turned and felt the pain in his leg. He must have fallen asleep while reminiscing and he knew he would be more sore that day because of the position he slept in. For two years he was educated in the art of war. Viserys had trained and had fought beside Rags and his companions. He had grown to care for them and had mourned a few during his time with them. How would he be able to go back to where he lived before? He missed Dany and Maekar, Ser Arthur, and even his mother, but he wasn't meant for life at court. Politics and marriage weren't for him. The Gods made him not stay idle and deal with the backstabbing of Magisters and the Usurper's mood swings. Instead, Viserys wanted to act on things, to be able to rid his family of those who would harm them.

He felt that having the assassin's focus on him was a good thing, though he couldn't help but wonder if Dany, Maekar, and most of all Aemon were safe.

Viserys missed corresponding with his nephew, who it seemed had understood him despite his young age and who had accepted him for who he was. Aemon seemed to care for Viserys' wants and not simply the prospect he could bring to a potential Targaryen restoration.

He still didn't understand why his mother was so set on taking back Westeros. The memories he had of his homeland were blurry since he didn't spend much time outside the Red Keep, and the things he heard his father, whom he looked up to at first, had done through his madness had revolted him. Rhaegar, the other person he looked up to, had brought the ire of the Seven Kingdoms down upon them in the name of love. So while he missed both his father and brother to an extent, he didn't miss the legacy of the Targaryen family.

Madness, selfishness, and power corrupted them all in the end, even his mother who was so obsessed with going back to a place where they were hated and tying them to people they couldn't possibly trust.

''I'm doing this for Aemon, so he and you would be safe and our family one day be reunited.'' his mother had said when he finally broached the subject with her.

''Why can't Aemon come here, Mother?''

''His other family… They wouldn't let him. They've lost too much, like us, they fear the Usurper's wrath on them and their kin should word go out of Aemon's true identity. When Aemon will be king, none of this will matter anymore.''

''But Aemon doesn't wish to be king, Mother.''

"For now, he doesn't, but soon he'll understand that as Rhaegar's son, he is the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms.''

"What if he won't? Will you force it on him? I don't think this is the best way to protect him.''

"People will follow him when they hear his true identity. His father was loved —"

"I heard Ashara say people hate Rhaegar, and they hate her because they also hate Arthur.''

"She was talking about Dorne and the North, but other places are still loyal to us.''

"Loyal? You call them loyal, where are they? Why aren't they bringing the fight on our behalf to the Usurper?''

"They do not know about Aemon yet.''

"But they do know about us! About me! Why aren't they declaring for us?''

"You won't like the answer to this, Viserys."

"I need to understand, Mother,'' he stressed.

"Very well. Nobody except Dorne will stand behind either of my children for now because they all fear you take more after your father. Their memories of you are ones of you being Aerys' shadow, and your mood swings were scaring everyone at Court. Rhaegar, yes, Rhaegar they thought was worth following. That is why they will follow Rhaegar's son, for Aemon so far has shown them he is truly his father reborn.''

Viserys had felt as if he had been punched in the guts.

"So you're using him. You're using Aemon to take back what you think is rightfully ours, because you can't use me for it.''

"They killed Rhaegar, Viserys. They killed Aegon and Rhaenys. They robbed your nephew of his family, robbed us of our family when all they needed to do was to end your father's life. I have been weak and endured pain and suffering from Aerys because I believed all would change with Rhaegar, they stole his future, your future, Dany's, Aemon's… They have to answer for their crimes."

"Mother, Aemon is safe, we are safe. We have a comfortable life here. You've made it so none of us would be harmed. I wish the Usurper dead, wish all of those who wrong our family to pay too, but… Our family is worth more than the Iron Throne. Leave Westeros behind."

"Our family made the Iron Throne. Aegon united the Seven Kingdoms and his descendants have been tasked to keep them united. Robert Baratheon is a kinslayer, a disgrace to our family's legacy and as long as I draw breath I refuse to let him sit on my grandson's throne. I sacrificed living with Aemon for this. I sacrificed my love life for this. I have done too much already to go back on my word. We will see that Aemon was given what is due to him. He will have the Reach supporting him thanks to his marriage to Margaery Tyrell and you, my son, will ensure Dorne will support him too."

"Dorne will never follow me, Mother.''

"Yes, they will. You will play your part by marrying Arianne Martell when the time is right, and they will be given no choice but to follow your lead."

There was no reasoning on his mother's part, Viserys realized with horror. She was too far gone in her plot to see how she affected her family around her. So much so that she couldn't even realize how pointless it would be to ally themselves with Dorne knowing how much they hated their family. They will seek revenge on them, either by killing Aemon to try and push him to the Throne, or by killing him to avenge Rhaegar's wife.

Viserys had talked with Arthur, with Lucerys, none of them wanting to go against Rhaella and both of them finding her cause justifiable. May it be guilt, blind loyalty, vengeance, or the prospect of finding more glory and lands in the taking of Westeros, each one of his mother council had an interest in seeing Aemon on the Iron Throne.

As for him and his siblings, only worry for their nephew motivated them to think outside of their mother's plan. They needed to be prepared to protect Aemon should his identity be compromised.

"Aems will need us, Vis. He'll need the dragons and we are dragons.'' Dany said, sealing his decision with a tight hug.

His little sister's dreams had been taken lightly at first by their mother, but Viserys always knew they had significance. He trusted her when she said that his path would one day bring him to Aemon's side, and he waited for the day this would come to fruition. Until then, he was not ready to go back to Braavos.

Taking a deep breath, he stumbled out of the tent, smiling to Meris as the woman complained about staying up all night because of him and promising her half of his bounty as a thanks, which seemingly calmed her down.

"Feeling better?'' Rags inquired as Viserys sat down next to the commander.

"Aye. I'll live.''

"Good. We're needed in Myr. Seems like the new Prince of Pentos wants to expand his territory.''

"We can't let that happen, can we?'' Viserys smirks.

"When it comes to Pentos, there's little we can allow these fucks to do.'' Rags japed, and Viserys sighed with relief, knowing his place in the company was safe for now.

Braavos 295 AC.

Ferrego Antyron.

Ferrego understood not the mind of a woman at times. Especially when that woman had a mind as sharp as his wife's was. Rhaella was not only the singularly most beautiful woman he'd ever known, but she was one of the very smartest too. Just one look at the kingdom in waiting that she'd built would be proof enough of that. His wife was mayhap the largest trader in Essos. Her trading operation put most of the major cities to shame and was unrivaled by any in Westeros. While the sheer number of men she could call upon would make any major city tremble before her.

Not that Rhaella sought to make any city tremble. At least none in Essos. Although Volantis had been given the merest glimpse of what the Queen Regent of Westeros could call upon should she wish it. Something that Ferrego had used to his advantage and which had led to the freeing of more than ten thousand slaves. Slaves who now named Braavos their home and who had won him much favor among the great and the good of the city. It had led him to move forward with his plans, only to find that his wife was not yet ready to play her part in those plans.

The disappearance of her son had been more than enough to get Rhaella to forgo even her plans regarding Westeros, for now at least. Yet it was this very disappearance that proved how little Ferrego understood the workings of his wife's mind. At first, he'd been tasked with using every single one of his considerable resources to find the boy. Only to then be asked to stand down and to seek Viserys out not. It was almost strange. Still, he'd refused Rhaella nothing since they were wed and so he'd adhered to her request. While at the same time, he'd brought his own son ever closer to him.

"Maekar's guards, they are men you've chosen yourself?" Ferrego asked Qarro, his first sword.

"They are, my lord."

"And you trust them with his safety?"

"As much as you trust me with your own, my lord."

Those words had been more than enough for him. Qarro Volentin may not have been Syrio Forel, however, the difference wasn't a truly large one. Other than the two men who guarded his wife, Ser Arthur and Ser Barristan, there was not a better swordsman in Braavos. While the men that now guarded his son, would be a match for all but those three. Or so Ferrego would now wager.

As for his son, Maekar was a strange oft confusing child. As bright as any when he was with his sister, his mother, and even at times, himself. While at other times he could seem lost in melancholy, as Prince Rhaegar had oft been known to be. It had made Ferrego concerned at first. Worried, even. In time, however, he'd found out that it was far from melancholic that his son was. Instead, it was with thoughts of plans and plots that Maekar would oft get lost in his mind. Something a conversation with his son had shown him all too clearly.

"What ails you son? Is it worry over your brother?"

"I worry not, father."

"Yet, you seem so quiet at times."

"I think better when I'm quiet and I have much on my mind."

"Then share it with me, son. A worry shared is one halved or so I'm told." he chuckled.

Hearing Maekar talk of war, of battles fought on sea and shore, had been worrisome at first. The more he listened, however, the clearer it became that in the battles his son was playing out in his mind, Maekar was but searching for ways to win them. Unconventional ways. Ways that were unknown or untested. Always seeking to find a way that would take an enemy by surprise or lead to either a complete and true victory or one where it may as well have been one.

Through his games of Cyvasse with his son, Ferrego began to see the truth of how Maekar's mind worked. How astute and clever he truly was. At merely eight namedays old, his son could beat him at the game, even if Ferrego gave him an advantage before starting. Maekar made moves that couldn't be predicted and which at first glance seemed foolish or ill-advised, only to prove themselves very much not. Later, when they spoke about the game they just played, his son would tell him why he used his rabble the way he did, or why he never relied on his dragons at times. Ferrego sitting and taking it all in with a prideful look on his face.

The truth of his son's cleverness, however, came not in talk of war or battles. Not in speaking of trade, though his son knew much about that too. It came when they spoke of disputes and how to resolve them. When words were uttered about the great cities and those who ruled over them. Each time they did so, Maekar would offer up a solution that served their interests far better than any that Ferrego himself could come up with. His son was seemingly able to see deep into the hearts of men without even the need to see those men in front of him. As for when he did look at those men in front of him, well those times scared Ferrego a little.

"That man is a traitor, father. He betrays you with his dealings with the Iron Bank."

"How can you know such a thing?"

"Speak to Noho Dimittis, father, speak to him and soon you'll know the truth."

Some of the betrayals that Ferrego rooted out due to Maekar's words had been minor while others were very much not. A few of them were the simple plots that were daily occurrences in Braavos and which required him to do little to counter. While others were anything but and had led to the deaths of those involved. Each of them had been named traitor by his son, however, and it had led to a conversation between Ferrego, Rhaella, and Maekar. One that still sent some shivers down his spine when he thought back upon it.

"What you name as treasons, son, are not entirely that." Ferrego began.

"A small betrayal today can turn into a larger one on the morrow, father. All too soon, you find that the man you forgave is the one with the knife in his hand and who now stands ready to plunge it deep into your heart."

"All men seek advantage, Maekar. There is nothing wrong with this and it is the way of the world after all."

"Advantages are earned or given freely, father, not taken without consent."

"Rhaella?"

"Do you see these men betraying your father more than they already have, son?"

"Not all, mother," Maekar said.

"Most?" Rhaella asked.

"Most," Maekar confirmed.

"Then 'tis better to root them out early and nip their betrayal in the bud than to let them think themselves unseen or unwatched or to hope they seek no further gain."

"All men seek further gain, Mother," Maekar said as if he were the parent, and Rhaella the child.

In the end, it was not the words spoken of treason, nor those spoken on battles and wars that he'd sought to have his son closer by his side for. Instead, it was thoughts of the future. Of what came after he was gone and the plans he had to make Essos a free land before then. Ferrego had been under no illusions that even with Rhaella's forces allied to his own, he'd be able to free Essos entirely from the blight of slavery. Instead, it would fall to his son to do so. To mayhap Maekar's son after him. So, he'd brought his son closer to prepare him for the day when Maekar sat on his chair and was named Sealord.

He'd begun to look for a match for his son too. One that would solidify his power in Braavos and yet would help him achieve his goals beyond the city's walls and shores. Only for both of these things to be denied to him, not by his son's mother, but by his son himself. Maekar may have been only too happy to play his role by side temporarily, but his son had left him in no doubt that it would not be one that he'd seek for true. That just as with his brother, his path led him far from Essos and though he'd play a small role in seeing slavery brought to an end, it would be someone else who played the true one.

"My path leads me far from these shores, father. To a land where dragons are cast from stone. To the hills and the mountains and the men who name them their homes. I was born for war, father. To wage it, to win it. Yet my war is not for the freeing of slaves. It's for the crowning of a king."

"I'll forbid it of you, your place is here, not there."

"Then you'll force me to do as my brother has, I would beg of you not to."

"You would run…leave your mother alone," Ferrego said, trying to shame and guilt his son into doing what he wished him to do.

"If I must." Maekar sighed.

Ferrego felt his son's hand on his shoulder. It startled him for a moment before he realized he'd been sitting down and so Maekar was more easily able to reach him. His son may speak like a man grown, he was but still a boy, and yet as Ferrego looked into his son's violet eyes, it was he who felt chided.

"'Tis not me who'll achieve your dream for you, Father. Yet, your dream will be achieved nonetheless?"

"Your son? Daughter?" Ferrego asked, ready to bring up the match he had decided upon.

"My son will take his place on your chair, in time. Yet, he'll not be from the line you wish him to be. Nor will it be he who ends slavery"

"You know of the match?" Ferrego asked with surprise.

"I know and 'tis not the match I'm destined for. Just as here is not where I'll make my name nor forge my path."

"Who?" he asked. "Who will free the slaves then if not you or him?"

"My sister." Maekar said smiling." Dany will free them all. She'll be their Mhysa, father, and the Great and Good Masters, the Pureborn, the Old Blood, all of them will tremble before her."

His son still spent much time at his side, yet, since that day he was not alone in doing so. Daenerys too he'd brought closer and Ferrego himself had taken over much of her education. While Maekar learned of Westeros and the Great Houses who ruled there, Daenerys now learned of Essos and the Great and Good Masters. She learned of Qarth and Volantis, Norvos and Qohor, Meereen, Yunkai, and Astapor.

Ferrego had hoped to teach his son all he needed to know about the men who enslaved others. In time, he'd hoped to engender the same hatred and disgust that he had for those men and for the practice of slavery itself. In the young princess, his daughter by marriage if not blood, he found a most willing student. As with his son, he found that Daenerys too knew things and when she spoke to him now of her dragon dreams, Ferrego listened just as keenly as her mother did.

All the while he made one simple vow. That when the time came, Braavos would stand with the girl who had fast become, the daughter of his heart.

Storm's End 295 AC.

Cassana Baratheon.

Try as she might, Cassana couldn't pay attention to what the Septa was saying. She knew it was important, her mother had told her so and if there was one thing Cassana was certain of, it was her mother's cleverness. Still, the words she'd overheard earlier that day regarding the tourney at Highgarden, were all her mind could concentrate on.

She hoped they would travel there soon. That she'd see a true tourney attended by all the realm. For as much as she'd enjoyed the two she'd attended in King's Landing, there had been Houses who had been notable in their absences. Those of the Reach had been foremost among them. With House Tyrell especially seeming to make no attempt to attend. Cassana understood it not. Tourneys and balls were true delights and things she longed for as much as anything. They were things too that her father would never see occur at Storm's End for any reason. Or so she believed.

Though she'd heard that the Reach was out of favor with her uncle, the king, Cassana knew little of politics. Rather, she cared little for the subject, as her father ensured she took lessons from the Maester regarding all those things a future queen would need to know. Not that her father spoke in such a manner. Instead, her mother would tell her such things on the nights when she'd comb Cassana's hair before tucking her up in her bed for the night.

"You and your cousin, Cassana, you'll be the Realm's Delight and he the Golden King. Oh, how the people will love you, Sweetling."

Sitting alongside her two closest friends, Cassana couldn't hide the smile on her face as she now drifted into another of her long daydreams. This one seeing her wed to Prince Joffrey in the Sept of Baelor as the great and the good of the realm cheered them on. It had quickly managed to overtake the earlier one she'd been having of being crowned at the tourney by said prince. The garland perfectly showed off her jet-black hair as she smiled at her future husband.

"Lady Cassana." Septa Mordane called out. Her loud annoyed voice shook Cassana from her daydream.

"Septa?"

"House Buckler, Lady Cassana, their sigil if you will."

Frowning as she tried to remember the sigil of a House she knew or cared little about, Cassana took a closer look at the drawing that Jena had written on her piece of parchment. Smiling broadly at her clever friend's helpful suggestion, Cassana then named the sigil after the three brass buckles on the blue field that the drawing depicted and named it as.

"Very good, Lady Cassana."

"Jena, House Dondarrion."

On and on the lesson went until finally it was time for their morning break. Cassana, Jena Penrose, along with Corenna Swann, were joined by Young Mark and Old Tom, the two guards her father had assigned to her, as they walked from the room and out onto the battlements. The sounds of arrows hitting a target soon put a small sneer on her face. Given the time of day, it meant that the archer could only be one person. True enough, Theon Greyjoy was practicing his archery alone. Albeit under the watchful eye of her father's men.

Seeing him look her way, Cassana turned her head in the opposite direction. She had at first tried to befriend the Iron Born hostage, thinking that he truly was the heir to the Iron Islands, and as a lady, it behooved her to treat him well. Her mother's words of warning and how Theon had been treated ever since Cassana had spoken to him one night at a feast, had shown her the truth of things. They were not to befriend him as he was not a ward of their House. Something that Cassana had first believed to be true. No, Theon was a hostage to his father's good behavior and more so, Iron Born was never to be trusted around young ladies.

"Ser Davos, is it true that a lady must be wary of the Iron Born?" Cassana asked the Onion Knight. The older man was one of her father's truest Bannerman and had it not been for his actions, then her father and uncle may have perished during the rebellion against the Mad King.

"It is, my lady. Though you've naught to fear from young Theon, not here in your own keep."

"Yet my mother has warned me from being too close with him, Ser Davos?" Cassana asked, confused.

"And we must always listen to our mothers, my lady." Ser Davos chuckled. Earning him a giggle from her in response. "If your good lady mother tells you to be wary, then be wary. Yet, I would not have you fearful and I know your father would ensure your safety always."

"He would?" she asked.

"He would." Ser Davos said firmly, before winking at her. "For you are his true delight, my lady. As you are for us all."

Ignoring the huff that came from Theon as they passed him by. As well as the little giggles from her friends as they made some jape at his expense. Cassana soon found herself entering the Great Hall and taking a seat at her family's table. To her surprise, neither her mother nor father entered for luncheon and after a few moments, Theon did, before then taking his seat at the back of the Great Hall.

Once they'd finished eating, it was to her next lesson that she, Jena, and Corenna made their way. All three of them were much more excited for the embroidery to come. With Cassana most keen to finish the handkerchief she'd started for her cousin's nameday celebration. Though it was moons away, this one was special as Prince Joffrey was coming to visit Storm's End for once, and so Cassana had worked extra hard on his present. The Lion and Stag were both represented equally on a black and yellow field. Something she believed would be the prince's sigil when he began to take to the lists. Which given how much he trained, would be most soon.

Later that day, Cassana sat alone and was almost downcast. Not only would they not be attending the Tourney of Highgarden or the wedding that was the reason for the tourney, but they'd not be visiting King's Landing for some time. She feared too that her cousin would call off his visit to her home and nothing her friends could say, helped brighten her mood. So much so that she feared she'd find no appetite at her meal that night. Her father's words had robbed her of it when he'd told her the news. Cassana for once hated the idea of a new brother or sister and wished her mother was not with child.

With tears threatening to fall from her eyes, Cassana soon found herself wishing that Steffon was here to cheer her up. Her younger brother always knew just what to say or how to act to do so and she now found she was missing him terribly. Even though it had been only a couple of moons since she'd seen him last. If it was not for her wishing to see her cousin and to see how he reacted to her present, then Cassana would wager it was that which had truly fouled her mood. The thought of not seeing Steffon until the Seven knew when was not one she wished to ponder too much on.

Yet, it was not simply Prince Joffrey, mayhap not arriving, or the thoughts of not seeing her brother for some time that had caused her such sadness. As she had found she looked forward to seeing Highgarden and to being a part of the pageantry. To witness a wedding and take part in a ball, while watching gallant knights joust and crown the Queen of Love and Beauty or the woman of their hearts.

"If only father was not so stubborn." she sighed.

Her mother came to her when it was time to make ready for the nightly meal. The words she spoke and the promise she made, were enough to at least get Cassana to wish to eat. While the meal itself and the way her father looked at her, too helped much in this regard. When it was time for her to leave, she was joined by her mother and once again, she felt the soft strokes of the comb as she had her hair brushed softly.

"I spoke to your father and he's agreed that with your Nameday coming so close to the Prince's and since you wished so much for a tourney, we'd hold one here." Cassana's mother said as Cassana gasped loudly.

"For true?" she asked, half excitedly and half worriedly. The two emotions fought with each other for prominence as she spoke.

It wasn't that she disbelieved her mother, far from it. Instead, it was simply that the idea of her father allowing a tourney to be held was almost beyond her. Never before had he even considered such a thing and when Cassana herself had brought it up, the look on her father's at times stern face, had left her in little doubt of his abhorrence of the idea. Yet now her mother was suggesting that something had changed. So heart in mouth, Cassana awaited her mother's response to her question.

"For true, Sweetling. Oh, my love it'll be the most amazing tourney ever, I promise you that and you, you my most precious daughter, you will be right at the center of it."

"I will?"

"Of course, Sweetling. For it's in your honor and the honor of your future husband that we'll be hosting this tourney is it not?"

"It is, it is," Cassana exclaimed excitedly. "Oh Mother, thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you."

She hugged her mother tightly, the smile she wore beaming as the thoughts of being the center of attention washed over her. Though it would be many years until she and Joffrey were wed and even more until they were king and queen, it did not stop the dreams from coming that night. Nor was Cassana any less fulsome in her thanking of her father the next morning.

A tourney of her very own. The first of many, she thought to herself. As for the next few days and weeks, Cassana spent more time by her mother's side than she did at lessons or with her friends. All the while, she learned another skill that would come in valuable when she sat by her husband's side on the Iron Throne. Cassana swore to herself that when she was queen, she would ensure that many tourneys were thrown.

Pentos 295 AC.

Asher Forrester.

In the four years since he'd come to Essos, Asher had learned much. Had it been who he was now who'd been surrounded by Whitehill men, then he'd have been able to cut through them all if he'd wished to. His skills with a Morningstar were now such that he could beat all but the commanders of the Company of the Rose. When it came to the men of Essos that he normally faced, other than in his earliest days here, he'd found them to be no match for him whatsoever.

Yet it wasn't simply his fighting skills that had been improved upon since coming to Essos, for his education had not been lax in other matters either. Asher now knew much about trade, coin, the provisioning of men, and the logistics of waging a small or large campaign, as his father ever had. More in some regards he'd wager. He'd risen high too in his time with the Company. Going from the lowliest recruit, albeit one who served as the North's representative in this endeavor, to now a commander of his very own small group of good and true men and women. A fierce bunch that had taken to calling themselves Asher's Arsekickers. The name most apt as those who faced them had found out to their cost.

It was all so very different from the almost scared and worried young lad he'd been upon his arrival in these strange lands. With nothing but some coin and a vague notion of where the Company of the Rose was located, he'd set off to do the bidding of the future Warden of the North. Jon Stark had tasked him personally and Asher could still remember the words the young lord had spoken to him on the day he'd done so. As well as the fact that it had been in front of the Heart Tree in Winterfell's Godswood that he'd done so.

"You are certain you'll not take up my offer?" Jon Stark asked as he, Asher, and the young lord's fencing master stood in the Godswood.

"I wish I could, Jon, truly," Asher replied, naming the young lord as he had bid him to. "Yet my father's words are the only ones that can get me to stay, much though your own are welcomed."

"Then I'd bid you to take up another offer I'll make you."

"Jon?"

"We do much trade with Essos as well you know, and while I know only what I've been told of those lands, I am fortunate to know someone born in them." Jon looked to Syrio Forel, the fencing master smirking back at the young lord before Jon continued. "To that end, I fear we may need to seek protection for our trading operations. And that we should seek that aid from one of the sellsword companies that name Essos their home."

"Would it not be best to use our own men, Jon?"

"Your men know as much of my lands as I know of yours." Syrio chuckled. "Do you want them to be dead men? For to know not your surroundings is to invite the god of death's cold embrace."

Seeing Jon Stark almost roll his eyes, Asher somehow resisted the urge to laugh aloud. Braavosi was known to speak almost in riddles at times and only that he'd seen firsthand just how effective the man's training of the young lord had been, or he'd have been yet another who spoke ill of Syrio Forel. Although those who had and had then faced the fencing master in the yard had not done so again.

"Aye, Syrio speaks truly," Jon said, taking Asher from his thoughts. "We need men who know the lands better than our own do. To that end, I wish you to seek out the Company of the Rose."

"For true?" Asher said excitedly.

"Aye, give them this, and should they offer you the chance to stay with them, I'd bid you do so."

"For why?"

"Far better to be around men who at least have the North in their hearts than to be with strangers, is it not?"

"I'll do as you bid, Jon."

It had turned out to be far more than he'd expected if he was being honest with himself. Not only was the Company of the Rose to offer protection to the Northern Trade routes, but they were offered the chance to come home in the future if they so wished. Jon Stark's letter, which Asher had not seen the contents of, contained some offer of such. Or at least he believed it did given the many questions that Torrhen Snow asked him about the young lord after he'd read the letter.

From that point on, Asher had been a valued member of the Company of the Rose. He'd been trained, and educated, had sent letters back to Winterfell, and had received further orders and instructions from the young lord and his regent. In time, he'd been named as the Northern Envoy in Essos. A grand title that in essence boiled down to the man that some Northmen sought out when they too arrived on Essos' shores. It had been that along with the coin the Company of the Rose made from their dealings with the North, that had led them to setting up a permanent base in Pentos. There they'd welcomed both recruits and requests for aid from Northern Traders.

Mainly it was the Manderlys. Ser Wylis himself came to visit on more than one occasion and Asher not only being who he sought out, but who Torrhen and the other commanders had taken their lead from. It was dealing with some issues that the Mermen had with some bandits outside of Norvos that had first brought him into contact with the Tattered Prince and the Windblown as well. Something that had in the end turned out to be most fortuitous for both their groups.

Norvos 1 year earlier.

They were pinned down, already out of arrows, and with three men who'd lose their lives if they didn't get some help soon. Where the men had come from, Asher knew not. Had he even expected that the group they were after was this large, then he'd have ensured that he'd brought thrice the number of men that he had. Now, that mistake had probably cost him and his men their lives and he cursed himself for it.

Reaching into his pocket, he took out the small ribbon and brought it to his nose. The scent had long since gone and yet when he closed his eyes, he could almost see her in front of him. Tying the ribbon to his arm as if it was a favor and this some southern tourney, Asher readied himself for one last push. One more valiant attempt to lead his men and himself to safety. Though he knew full well that the chances of it succeeding were slim and none. Still, he rose to his feet and readied to give the order, only for the sky behind him to fill with arrows. Arrows that were not aimed in their direction and which seemed to be coming from behind the men who'd trapped them here.

Soon it was chaos. Horses bolted as their riders fell to the ground. The sound of spears hitting flesh and men screaming began to ring out. Trying his best to make out what was going on, it took him some time to see the banners of the Windblown. A brief moment of doubt about whether or not they were enemy or allies was soon swept away by the fact that a lone horseman had made his way toward them and that he did so while showing no signs of aggression.

"You are men of the Company of the Rose?" the dark-haired horseman asked.

"Aye, we are, and who be you?"

"Aldon Meltalor, a friend of the North."

The sight of a spear flying through the air stopped Asher from responding. Instead, he rushed to the horse and slapped its arse hard, forcing it to bolt. It allowed for the spear to fly by and miss the horseman by a few feet. The man who had thrown it was soon being run down by an older man on a black horse. While the rest of those who'd ambushed them were finally taken from this world. After a nod of thanks from the horseman and a larger one from Asher, he soon found himself face-to-face with the Tattered Prince.

"I thank you for the help." Asher began only for the older man to wave off his thanks and point to the young horseman.

"Thank Aldon, it was he and his men who found out about this little ambush."

"Then I am in your debt," Asher said, turning to the young man who shook his head.

"I believe saving me from being impaled upon a spear makes us even, Ser…"

"No Ser, The North cares not for such things. My name is Asher Forrester."

Now.

They had broken bread together more than once since that day. He and Aldon had found themselves running into each other much over the past year. The young man commanded his very own group amongst the Windblown and seemed to have some connection to the North. Hence why he'd come to their aid and had bid the Tattered Prince to ride out when he had. Yet, in all the time they'd spent together. Despite them becoming somewhat firm friends, never had Aldon told him why he cared for the North so much. Other than to say that his family would bid it of him to do so.

He had made a strange request of Asher, however. A little over six moons since the Windblown had saved their arses and on the fourth time that Aldon and Asher had shared a drink, the young man had given him a letter.

"For the future Warden of the North, if he replies I'd bid you to hold the letter here for me if you could," Viserys asked hopefully.

"What business have you with Lord Stark?" Asher asked suspiciously.

"Family matters, Asher, I swear to you that they are but family matters." Aldon smiled.

"I'll not be a party…."

"I give you my oath, Asher. On the friendship I believe exists between us. There is naught in that letter that places yourself, Lord Stark, or the North itself in any danger and nothing that affects anyone but me. 'Tis just family matters, my friend, I swear it on the Old Gods and the New."

Asher had sent the letter and had received a reply, he'd then sent another and another. All in all, four letters had been exchanged between Aldon Meltalor and Jon Stark and though he still knew not the contents of them, he did see the smile on Aldon's face each time he handed him another letter. It was a smile he knew all too well as it was the very same one he wore when his letters arrived from Jon Stark. Though in his case, those letters were rarely from the future Warden of the North and were instead from the woman who still held Asher's heart in the palm of her hand.

Today, however, it was a letter from Jon Stark that had arrived and the words it contained had made little sense to him. So much so that Asher soon found himself meeting with Torrhen and Artos Snow, the Lord Commander of the Company of the Rose and its paymaster. Both men read the letter at Asher's behest and then looked at each other, before nodding and smiling.

"He's a clever man is the future Warden," Artos said.

"How so?" he asked, confused. The idea of coin being held in their barracks and to be handed out to men who bore letters sealed with the seal of Winterfell was not something that Asher understood the need for.

"The Iron Bank cares only for profit, young Asher." Torrhen Snow began. "How much they can make and what cost it is to them to back an endeavor."

"As is the way with all bankers is it not?" he said confused.

"It is, but what if direct profit wasn't your only goal?"

"What?"

"Debts will be repaid and some coin will be earned, but the Iron Bank will seek as large a portion of that coin as they can get. How does that help the North grow stronger?" Artos asked and Asher looked from him to Torrhen and back, still having no true idea of what was being proposed.

"If the North's trade grows, if its people grow more of their own food. If they can get more of the things they need through their own means, then in the long run they save coin, do they not?" Artos asked and Asher nodded. "So it would behoove them to do all they could to see that so, is that not true?"

"Aye, it is."

"Yet the Iron Bank only cares for the profit it can make, not for the growth of the North," Torrhen said.

"And so Jon Stark and his Regent now seek to do what the Iron Bank will not. To offer finance to the Northmen that helps the North grow at a fraction of the cost that the Iron Bank would charge." Artos added.

"He means to rival the Iron Bank?" Asher asked, stunned.

"Only when it comes to the North," Torrhen said proudly.

Asher smiled at that. Wondering too if it meant that just as they would hold some coin in reserve for the North in their barracks, making it as safe as if it was in Winterfell's vault, would Winterfell do likewise. He believed they would and yet over the next few days, his mind left banking and coin far behind him. The letter that arrived from Gwyn was all that he could think of. That and the promise that letter contained.

My dearest Asher,

By the old gods, I miss you so. Every day I find myself holding the handkerchief you gifted me while imagining and hoping you do the same with the ribbon I gave you in return. I pray before the Weirwood that your father and mine own come to their senses and yet I fear they will not. As father has already begun speaking of matches and no words of mine seem to stop him from doing so.

I find myself wishing I'd run with you, my love. That I'd taken the risk and left these lands and our families far behind. Yet, at other times I worry that had I but done so, then my father would have sought you out and this time he'd have brought about your end.

My worries led me to confide in someone I had not intended to. A conversation with Lady Meera Reed soon led to a truer and more wonderful one with Jon Stark. His words have given me hope when I've felt there was none. They've allowed me to dream of a day to come that I pray will come sooner than later. The promise he made me was done in front of the Heart Tree, my love. A promise that we both know the danger in breaking and one I now speak to you with joy and happiness.

One day, your love will return to these shores, my lady. On that day he'll be named by me as a true servant of the North, a good and true man whose efforts have seen the North grow as strong as it then shall be. He'll be granted a boon by the Warden of the North, my lady, a boon that none shall question or raise any objection to. A bride of his choice and a keep and lands to name his own. He'll be given a House to name how he chooses and be sworn directly to the Warden of the North. Let any man dare name him as anything but a good and true son of the North that day. For to do so will invoke my wrath and that of the Old Gods I make this promise in front of.

I believe him, my love. With all my heart, I believe the words spoken to be true and so I count the days until your return. To the day when I'll stand afore the Heart Tree and name you my husband and you'll call me wife. I count down my days and take comfort in knowing that each day brings that day ever closer.

I love you with all I am or ever shall be,

Gwyn.

Asher shed no tears, though he wished to. His heart soared as he read the letter again and again. On the day that the first shipment of coin arrived from the North, it was Asher himself who led it to the vault they'd prepared for it. He who locked the door and who handed the first key to Torrhen Snow, with the second to be worn around his neck, and he pitied the fool who tried to take it from him.

He'd do his liege lord's will, and he'd do so gladly. The prize he would receive for doing so was one he'd one day collect. So just as he now knew Gwyn was doing, Asher too began to start counting down the days. His return to the North was now something that he hoped would be sooner rather than later.

"For Gwyn," he whispered as he and his men set out for yet another mission to help the North grow ever stronger.

Highgarden 295 AC.

Margaery Tyrell.

He was back. Back where he belonged and her heart soared because of it. Even when her brother still spoke fondly of the North, Margaery cared not. The simple fact of him being back in their home and being able to see Loras daily was more than enough to allow her to put aside her distaste of all things Northern for now. Though the words she heard her grandmother speak to her mother, soon brought thoughts of the North back to her mind once more.

They were to host a tourney to celebrate her brother's wedding. Garlan was set to marry Lady Leonette Fossoway and Margaery was only too happy to welcome her new Goodsister to their family. A tourney larger than any they'd hosted in many a year, or so she'd heard her grandmother say. One that to her surprise was to be attended by the Starks and much of the North, if she'd heard the words for true. Something that she later confirmed with Mira Forrester, whose own family would be among the Northern Party that would be traveling to the Reach.

Margaery knew not how to take the news. A part of her was most happy that she'd get to see those from the North who'd welcomed Loras, and even her family, so fondly into their halls. A larger part wanted to show them that she was not how she knew they thought her to be. Mira's words and even Loras' having somewhat shocked her when she'd found how bad an impression she'd made while in Winterfell. Margaery was now resolute in her intention to show her true self to one and all.

'Even Jon Stark.' a traitorous voice whispered inside her mind.

Alone in her room, Margaery moved to where the small locked box was hidden. A box that contained her most precious things. Not her jewelry or her expensive gifts, as they mainly were kept in Highgarden's vault, but the things she cared most for in all the world. A ribbon gifted to her by her mother which had belonged to her mother and her mother before her. The small pebble that Loras had gifted her to remind her of him when he'd left to foster in the North. A silver comb that her grandmother had told her had been hers as a child. Along with some letters, drawings, and a small book which she now took in hand.

Looking around the room to make sure that she was truly alone, Margaery opened the book and took out the pressed flower that the pages covered. Its blue was still as vivid as the day it had been gifted to her by the future Warden of the North. Bringing it to her nose was enough to make its scent apparent. The flower somehow managed to keep much of its beauty and life where another would not have. Smiling as she smelt the aroma of the blue winter rose, Margaery moved slowly to the bed and lay down. Her eyes closed as she remembered that day and how it had made her feel to be gifted so. A dream of something that could never be that quickly ended the good mood that had come over her.

"If only he lived anywhere else." she sighed.

Carefully she rose from the bed and moved back to the table that the lock box rested upon. After placing the flower back among the pages of the book, Margaery called for her handmaidens and readied herself for the day. A day where she'd help as much as she could in the readying of her soon-to-be Goodsister's dress while no doubt listening to some gossip that she both should and should not listen to.

By the time she, Mira, Elinor, and Megga were making their way to the Great Hall for luncheon, Margaery's mood had soured. The king had refused her father's invitation to the wedding and not only would he and the queen not be attending, but neither would the Crown Prince. Margaery was annoyed and angered at the snub and yet in truth, it worried her far more than it displeased her. The truth of their position was laid to bare and the plan that had already taken root in her mind now did so even more truly.

Mira may think that her grandmother wished her and Jon Stark to be wed, but Margaery wouldn't countenance such a thing. Not only was the North not a place she wished to name her home, but a match between her and its future Warden would not see her family grow strong. Certainly not as much as a match between her and Prince Joffrey would. Only if she was to be queen would she truly be able to stop anyone seeking to cast her family down and take all they held from them. Something she had begun to fear more and more due to the animus between them and the crown.

"But how to make it so," she whispered.

"Margaery?" Elinor asked, Margaery shaking her head and cursing herself for speaking far more loudly than she'd thought she had.

Around her, people spoke of the tourney, and seeing Loras walk into the Great Hall with Garlan, Margaery called her brother over to her table. Happy when he hurriedly joined them and took his seat beside her. Though not at the conversation that soon began to take place around her. As she had no wish to speak of the North or just who would be coming and competing in the upcoming tourney. Instead, Margaery changed the subject and spoke of those who were not doing either. Even if she took her time to get to the heart of the matter.

"Do you think you'll earn your spurs during the tourney, brother?" Margaery began. The seeds of a plan taking root in her mind.

"I know not, had I but stayed…." Loras stopped himself from speaking further when he saw her frown. "Mayhap, should I be lucky enough to do something to earn it."

"And would that mean you'd travel to other tourneys? Enter them to earn some renown?"

"Mayhap," Loras replied, looking at her warily. "Or mayhap I may need to to earn my spurs regardless. Why do you ask?"

"No reason."

Mira, Loras, and even Elinor all looked at her with intrigue. While Megga seemed more focused on eating her luncheon than on the conversation going on around her. Not a single one of the other three seemed to buy her attempted deflection and it was clear that none believed the words she said. Still, none called her out for her most obvious lie and it allowed Margaery to continue to speak how she wished.

"The Crown holds the most tourneys do they not? The ones where the most illustrious of names compete?" she asked

"They do."

"Then mayhap King's Landing is where you need to earn your name, brother."

Later that night, she found herself alone on the balcony. The soft wind blowing and the smell of the roses below was most pleasant. Standing there with her eyes closed, Margaery became lost in a dream almost. A white dress that she was helped into, a garland of flowers arranged on her head. She was led to a carriage that was drawn by four white horses and then to what seemed to be a forest that was illuminated by a thousand small lights. Soft white snow fell as she looked at a figure dressed all in black who stood in front of the whitest tree she'd ever seen.

"I take this woman."

Shocked, stunned, her eyes opened of their own accord and Margaery felt herself shiver despite the warmth of the night. Afraid to close her eyes even to blink, she hurried back through the double doors and was more than happy to leave the balcony and the dream she'd had while there, far behind her. Afraid to turn around lest she see those dark grey eyes and the way they looked at her, or to hear the northern brogue as the words were spoken.

For the next few days, Margaery concentrated only on the upcoming tourney. She allowed not her thoughts to be swayed from the path she wished them to travel. Only to find that at night when she lay in her bed, those thoughts would betray her and in her dreams, she'd seek out that forest, the white tree, and the man who still stood waiting there for her. To a pair of dark grey eyes that looked and felt so welcoming in the darkness of the night.

It was hearing the news that the North's party had left Oldtown that once again allowed her to focus her thoughts. Listening keenly to any words she heard regarding Jon Stark from her grandmother, mother, father, or brother, Margaery began to see what it was she must do. Their wishes for her contradicted her own, or at least the ones she believed she must follow. Her heart a small price to pay to ensure her family's safety, or so she would tell herself. As she would that the man in her dreams was not the man Jon Stark would one day be. That those dark grey eyes were not his and that once she saw Prince Joffrey's emerald green ones, they'd be who she dreamt of nightly.

On the night before the Starks arrived at Highgarden, Margaery almost tore the blue winter rose apart. She wished to, and yet she knew she could and would not. It was such a precious little thing and it had been gifted to her in good grace. She may hate the boy who gave it to her. Or more precisely the man he would become. Yet, she could not bring herself to hate the gift or the memory of the day she'd received it. Nor could she not stop the curse that came to her lips and which she swore at the Seven who are One.

"Why couldn't he be a Prince of the South instead of a Northern Lord."

Waking the next morning, Margaery resolved herself to do what she must. She would be the Golden Rose that her grandmother and father named her. Charm everyone she meets and treat them all how they deserve to be treated. With the men, women, and children of the North, she'd show them her true face more often than not. While with Jon Stark, she'd show him only what he already believed her to be. What she prayed he believed her to be, what she feared he believed her to be.

"'Tis the only way to ensure we grow strong." she sighed as she walked from her chambers and made her way to greet a man she'd marry only in her dreams.

A/N: Thanks to all who've read and reviewed. Up Next: The Starks take in the sights of Highgarden as the tourney begins, Beth is reunited with Loras and is surprised by Margaery's changed attitude. Meera makes a discovery that sets Jon on a course he'd not wish to travel. Loras and Domeric have words together and Jon and Olenna come to an agreement that changes the course of both their House's futures. While Syrio Forel sets out to prove that the former First Sword of Braavos is a match for any man in Westeros as the melee takes place.

For those following my other fics, Purple Deception and Dragonwolf Danced are up next.

Missed reviews.

Chapter 1 Guest:. If you wish to read a story that is not Pro Targ, then go read one of the many Stark Wank stories that are on this site. No one is asking you to read stories you clearly have issues with, so why you'd bother is beyond me.

Chapter 8: Dscot. Only Benjen, Barbrey, and Ser Symon know about the attempted rape, as for the things Robert said to Ashara, yes, some may not like it, but he's the King, and few like Ashara enough to stand up for her and risk Robert's wrath. Now, privately they may grumble about what he said, but to publicly go against the king for someone you yourself have an issue with, is a step too far for most of them. Robert also wasn't as harsh as he could have been with her, yes he embarrassed, shamed her, but well there are enough Northern Lords who think she deserves it. Hell, we had one literally say worse things about her earlier in the story.

Now, when Jon is lord, it will be different, but if you think of it like this. There are some who wanted to see Ashara put in her place and not even Jon can make them not think that way. So how many would go against the king for her?

Chapter 10. So glad you feel that with Cat, I think she gets a lot of sympathy and even is given a huge pass because she's Ned's wife in canon. I read a story a long time ago, Wyrm and Cub, and it had an interesting take on how Cat would be looked at if Ned survived and the WOTFK still took place. Without the loss of her husband, her actions would be looked at much differently. Now don't get me wrong, I do think she's far smarter than Cersei. But one thing they have in common IMO is that they're both ruled by their emotions at times. Cat makes some of the worst decisions in canon, simply because of that. But, she's still not as smart as she thinks she is.

You're spot on with Tyrion, I'm not his biggest fan in canon, and I'd be stunned if in any way he ends up Dany's Hand in the books, it just makes no sense for her to name him so. He's not as smart as he thinks he is either, but he's good in certain situations. I also think he loses a lot of those smarts after killing his father, from then on it's purely luck that keeps him alive a lot of the time.

Here, we've yet to decide what to do with him, but Jon would never truth him and won't need to, not truly.

Chapter 14 Reviews.

Celexys: Thanks so much, glad you liked it.

Dunk: Yeah, I'm not sure if they changed something or it's on my end, but I keep having issues updating here for some reason. Anyway, today it seems to be going ok, fingers crossed. We wanted to do something different other than Blackfyres with the Targaryen line, we may bring in Faegon too since we hinted at it somewhat with Illyrio/Rhaella's meeting a few chapters ago, but here we wanted another Targ and to go with a fun little plotline. With Lynesse, in Dragon Cub circumstances changed her fate and so here we decided to go more canon. Basically without House Mormont rising, without what Jae did in Dragon Cub, things progressed the same way, and other than the miscarriages which we decided to use here, her fate followed the same trajectory. We will see fallout because of it, both in the near and far future of the story. Jon is being stubborn and somewhat childish, which is directly in contrast with how mature he normally is. I do sort of like to play around with the idea that someone can be educationally and on the surface extremely mature, but emotionally they've just not lived live enough to allow them to be emotionally mature, it's an interesting concept to me. The Egg influences him in so many ways and yet here, it simply doesn't. It will be some time and there will be something that makes him do so, and yes, he'll obviously regret not doing so before then. All in all, the payoff we think will be worth it in the end. With Dorne, it is arrogance and thinking they're far more than they are. Honestly, take out Rhaegar or canon events and say a Targaryen prince was to be wed, would they even be in the top 3 potential brides for that prince? I think not. Now canon of course changes it and makes Arianne a top match for any future king, but without canon, she comes behind Marge, Myrcella, Sansa, and maybe even Shireen Imo. We have big plans for our Dornish Plot here, unlike the two idiots who wrote the show.

Scarila: So glad to hear that. I do both hate and love when that happens to me, having to re-read can at first seem like a chore, but then it's nice to get back into the swing of things when it comes to a fic. Things are much better for me, I've started a new job with regular hours, which is something I really needed and it's allowed me more time to write and even read some fics. With this, our plan is 2 updates a month as we have a few chapters already finished.

Ariadne: Given he's Doran, he'll plot, plan, and wait for the right time to strike. Marrying Myrcella to Tyrstane could work for him, but allying with the Lannisters for true would lose him as much as it may gain him I think, but we'll see. As for the Starks, they'd never go against Jon, so there is no point in seeking a match there. You're spot on, if there is blame to be attributed then it's Aerys/Rhaegar and Tywin/Robert, the first two are dead, which leaves the latter two. Rhaella was just as much a hostage as Elia, only being on Dragonstone saved her from suffering the same fate and a logical mind would understand that, but well, Doran is not thinking logically and Oberyn is far too emotional to do so.

With Viserys, I know a lot of people think it's inevitable that he would go the same way as canon, but when you take away the triggers, being alone, hunted, having to be responsible and bear that weight on his very young shoulders, then you do change him a lot by giving him a mother and mentor to help him through things. Even knowing that it's Aemon and not him that the responsibility of being king falls to, helps. So we wanted to show just how different he'd be because of all of that.

So with Margaery, we deliberately have kept her povs from the story to paint her in one way, this chapter as you see begins to show another side of her. Hopefully it'll begin to explain her thought process and while not changing opinions immediately, at least allow them to be looked at and reconsidered. As for Jon, his path sort of truly begins from here on in.

Orthankg: So very glad you enjoyed it.

Jiubantai-Taicho: Margaery as you can see from her pov is attracted to Jon, however, she's convinced herself of certain things and so she's kind of fighting it in her mind. I won't spoil too much about what's to come, other than to say, there will be no infidelity or things of that nature in her and Jon's relationship, but things will stay frosty until they are not. I'm afraid I can't go into more than that, but bear with them over the next half dozen chapters and the reward will be worth it, we believe. We deliberately kept away from Margaery's povs to allow an impression of her to be formed and we're now going to challenge that impression somewhat by showing what's going on in her own mind, it may surprise some people, or so we hope. Cassana is a spoiled first daughter and we want the comparison between her and Margaery to be clear, as while Margaery is spoiled too, there are stark differences between them.

Lynesse is far from her father's sphere of influence as will be made clear when we see her again, though it won't be for some time. As for Dorne, should they dare to run down Ashara and Jon find out about it, then yes, they risk a Dragon's Wroth.

Beatshield: So very glad you liked it.

Classhole: Doran is smart, but he's also blinded by the idea of being slighted or not getting his due. That alone is enough to make smart people do stupid things. Tywin Lannister never forgave a slight, Cersei certainly didn't and while she was not as smart as her father, far from it, in this they were much alike and it cost them both. Doran here was shooting the breeze, would he actually ally with the Lannisters, more than likely not, but the fact is he feels slighted by the Targs, so he will seek it righted and sometimes the enemy of your enemy is your friend.

We weren't going for sympathy with Lynesse, simply explaining why she did what she did and how here it's different from canon. Jorah may have let her leave if she asked him. He may have set her aside if she was so happy. She thought only about her own feelings and while she's right to do so, it shows a selfishness that her canon character seemed to possess. Now some people could say that Jorah should realize just how upset she is, but we wanted her actions here to both be her own and to have been helped by others too.

Jon is 12 years old, yes he's far more mature than he should be, but that's educationally and in other areas, not emotionally. His not reading the letter is perfectly in keeping with that. He's also stubborn and has his reasons why he's not doing so, Viserys running away being just one of them.

As for your last comment, there is a simple solution to that, if you think my stories suck, then don't read them, there, saved you from reading and wasting your time.

I mean seriously, you argue that having a plot point happen just so the drama can unfold being a trope isn't actually present in the OG material. GRRM is not above leaning into tropes and his story is full of what I like to refer to as Georgisms. Things that make no sense when you truly consider them and are there, surprise, surprise, to allow the plot to happen. Such as Hoster Tully, the man who forced his daughter to drink Moon Tea and wed a man thrice her age and forced the grieving brother of his daughter's betrothed to marry his brother's intended wife. Who forced his brother to run from Riverrun to the Vale to escape the betrothal he'd made for him, to somehow decide that his son and heir needed no wife. Or Robert Baratheon/Tywin Lannister allowing the Greyjoy brothers to live after what happened at Lannisport and their rebellion before Ned Stark then allows Theon to become so friendly with Robb that he's in a position to betray him later. I mean, come on, if they're not forcing plot points then I don't know what is.

Jon if he was older not reading his grandmother's letters would be exactly as you say, at 12 years old not doing so, no, that's exactly what a child would do and again while Jon is far more mature than he should be, there is a difference between educationally mature and emotionally so.

Rhatch: in time perhaps.

Irish Hermit: So very glad you liked it, my friend. That's precisely the point, it can be all-enveloping. Ned Stark thought Robert a good man, and believed him to be a good king, yet he knew that because of his hatred and wish to avenge himself against the dragons, he'd have killed Jon. That not even he could have saved his nephew from his brother by choice. Doran may be different than Oberyn, who is more on the surface driven by vengeance, but he's still seeking it. To then feel he's being slighted, as he already felt he was with what Rhaegar did to Elia, it would lead Doran down a dark path. Should he find out the truth about Jon, well, that may play into that even more.

So glad you liked that with Mace, we wanted to do something different with him and felt that we came up with a way to explain it, we have so much more in store with Mace here, so many more little reveals to come.

Jon/Benjen will try and distract Jorah a little, but Lynesse's story isn't finished yet and we will see her again. I do try and have more Howland in my stories, here with my co-writer, we think we've come up with a plot where he, Jyanna, and Meera are all big players.

Wrysenseofhumor: Thank you, my friend, you too.

Xan Merrick: Thanks, my friend. Glad you liked it.