Notes:
- Jasper Arryn, an original character in this story, is the eldest son of Jon Arryn and Lysa Tully. In this tale, there are several sons and daughters of this marriage, Unlike in the books, where Robert Arryn is the sole son, here he is depicted as the youngest child of the marriage
- VERY AU (Alternate Universe)
- Some characters are out of character.
This is a story based on the Game of Thrones books and TV series, but be warned, it's a very AU (Alternate Universe) story. If you're someone who doesn't enjoy a story that deviates a lot from canon, where certain characters may act out of character, or if you're not a fan of romance with a good amount of fluff, and a story that ultimately has a happy ending, then this may not be the right story for you.
THE VALE (THE EYRIE) 298 AC
"In the softly illuminated chamber of the Eyrie, Jasper Arryn and Ser Brynden Tully stood hunched over a meticulously detailed map of the Vale, their brows furrowed in deep concentration. They meticulously examined the positions of their forces, tracing the paths of their potential adversaries with grave concern. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls, adding to the solemn atmosphere of the room.
"The Royces of Runestone have answered our call, as have the Corbrays and the Redforts," Ser Brynden murmured, his voice heavy with the weight of their impending decisions. "But what of the other noble houses? Have they responded to the call to arms from House Arryn in this time of need?"
Jasper shook his head, frustration simmering beneath the surface of his stoic demeanor. "Many of the minor houses remain silent. But we cannot afford to wait for their indecision to sway in our favor."
A tense silence settled over the chamber as they contemplated the implications of their situation. Memories of past conflicts lingered in the air, their shadows looming over the present moment. Ser Brynden's mind drifted to the memory of Castamere, where the Lannisters had brutally extinguished the Reynes and the Tarbecks, sending a chilling message to any who dared oppose them.
"Tywin Lannister's shadow looms large over the Vale," Ser Brynden finally spoke, his voice tinged with unease. "The memory of Castamere serves as a grim reminder of the consequences of defiance. Some of the minor houses fear his wrath, reluctant to risk provoking his ire."
Jasper's jaw tightened with grim determination as he absorbed his great-uncle's words. "We cannot allow fear to dictate our actions. If we cower before the Lannisters, we betray everything our house stands for. Father needs us now more than ever."
Before Brynden could respond, the heavy oak doors of the chamber swung open with a resounding creak, and they turned to see Lysa Tully, Jasper's mother, entering the room with a sense of urgency.
"Son, you can't be serious!" Lysa's voice rang out, filled with a mixture of desperation and anger. "We cannot risk the lives of our people by marching off to war on a whim."
Jasper's eyes widened with surprise as he faced his mother's opposition. "Mother, with all due respect, this is not a whim. My father is in chains, accused of treason by the very crown he served faithfully. This is a matter of honor, of justice! If we do not act now, the Lannisters will trample over us like cattle. I cannot stand idly by and watch as they destroy everything Father has worked so hard to build."
"Uncle, could you reason with my son?" Lysa Tully's voice quivered with concern as she addressed her uncle. She hoped he could convince her son not to commit a folly.
Ser Brynden stepped forward, his expression grave as he attempted to mediate between mother and son. "Lysa, I understand your concerns. But your son is right, we cannot ignore the plight of Lord Arryn, nor the threat that the Lannisters pose not only to the Vale but to the Riverlands and to the realm itself. We must stand united in the face of adversity, or risk losing everything we hold dear."
"You too, uncle? Do you support this madness of my son?" Lysa's eyes flashed with defiance as she met her uncle's gaze. "I will not sacrifice the lives of our people for the sake of some misguided notion of honor." With that said, she stormed out of the room angrily.
"What happened to you, dear niece, in King's Landing?" Ser Brynden whispered at that moment.
Jasper's fists clenched at his sides. 'Mother, I cannot abandon Father in his hour of need. With or without your support, I will gather our forces and ride to King's Landing if necessary.'"
As Jasper stood firm in his resolve, Ser Brynden placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, his gaze steady with conviction. "Jasper, remember, we are not alone in this struggle. Just yesterday, a raven arrived bearing news from my nephew Edmure Tully, your uncle. He pledges his support to our cause and stands ready to aid us in whatever capacity we may require. The Riverlands will not forsake us in our time of need."
A flicker of relief crossed Jasper's face at the mention of his uncle's support. "Thank you, Uncle. Edmure's backing will bolster our strength significantly. We must ensure that our alliance remains strong and unwavering."
With renewed determination, Jasper's thoughts turned northward, toward the distant lands of Winterfell. "And let us not forget the North. Father always spoke highly of Eddard Stark's loyalty and honor. If anyone understands the importance of standing up against tyranny, it is the Starks. I will send word to them, appealing for their aid. Together, we shall forge a coalition that cannot be ignored."
WINTERFELL 298 AC 1 DAY AFTER THE MAGIC CEREMONY (Early morning) - Simultaneous Scenes
EDDARD AND BENJEN
"Do you feel it, Brother?" Eddard's voice was low, barely audible over the whispering wind. "There's something... potent in the air."
Eddard Stark and Benjen Stark stood on the outskirts of Winterfell, their eyes fixed on the site where the powerful spell had been cast. The air crackled with residual energy, and a faint glow still lingered around the castle walls.
Benjen nodded thoughtfully, his gaze sweeping over the landscape. "Yes, Ned. It's as if the very essence of magic itself has woven into the fabric of Winterfell. The spell performed here have left their mark."
Eddard, maintaining his gaze fixed, spoke in contemplation. "I've never witnessed anything remotely similar. The Valyrians wield a power that is both impressive and unsettling."
"They do," Benjen agreed, his eyes narrowing slightly as he recalled the events of the previous day. "Their magic is ancient and potent, rooted in traditions that stretch back millennia. You know, in the eight years I've been married to Elaena, I've seen incredible acts of magic performed by her."
Silence fell between them as they continued to gaze at the surroundings, each lost in their own thoughts.
"It makes one wonder," Eddard mused, breaking the silence. "What other secrets does the world hold? What other places and sights lie beyond the narrow sea?"
Benjen nodded in agreement, his expression thoughtful. "Indeed, Ned. The world is vast, and its mysteries are boundless. We have barely scratched the surface of what lies beyond."
As they conversed, the sound of approaching footsteps reached their ears, prompting them to turn towards the source of the sound.
"Someone's coming," Benjen remarked, his hand instinctively drifting towards the hilt of his sword.
"Calm down, brother," said Eddard, smiling. "It's someone I sent for."
The figure drawing closer resolved into the familiar form of Ser Rodrik Cassel, the castle's master-at-arms. His approach was purposeful yet respectful, his gaze meeting Eddard's with a mix of curiosity and deference.
"My lord," Ser Rodrik greeted them, bowing slightly in acknowledgment. "You sent for me?"
Eddard nodded, gesturing for Ser Rodrik to join them. "Indeed, Ser Rodrik. We were just discussing the events that transpired here," he said, casting a meaningful glance towards the castle.
Benjen eyed Ser Rodrik with interest, waiting to hear Eddard's next words.
Eddard smiled at him before saying, 'Ser Rodrik, starting tomorrow, you'll have new pupils to train with.'"
"Of course, my lord," Ser Rodrik responded promptly, curiosity flickering in his eyes. "Who are these new pupils?"
Eddard replied, " My daughters Sansa, Arya, and Rob's wife Margaery. I want them to learn at least the basics of defending themselves with weapons."
The look of surprise spread across Ser Rodrik Cassel's face as he heard Eddard Stark's words. "So it shall be, my lord," he responded with determination, though astonishment still reflected in his eyes.
Eddard nodded with satisfaction at his loyal master-at-arms' response, then turned to Benjen, whose expression betrayed clear puzzlement.
Benjen, his surprise evident, chimed in, "Do you think Lord Mace Tyrell, Lady Olenna Tyrell, and your son Robb, will agree to Margaery participating in these... unladylike sessions?"
"It was precisely Lady Olenna who insisted that Margaery participate in these trainings" Eddard replied
Benjen nodded slowly, processing the information. It was evident that the decision had been carefully considered and that Eddard was committed to the safety of his family.
"Is there anything else, my lord?" Ser Rodrik inquired at that moment.
Eddard glanced at Ser Rodrik, his expression grave yet resolute. "Yes, Ser Rodrik, there are two more matters I wish to discuss," he said, his voice carrying a tone of solemnity. "Starting tomorrow, I want Robb, Torrhen, and Theon Greyjoy to begin training with real swords."
Ser Rodrik's brows furrowed slightly in surprise at the unexpected addition of the Greyjoy boy to the training with real swords. However, years of loyal service had taught him not to question his lord's decisions.
"Understood, my lord," Ser Rodrik replied, his expression betraying a hint of concern. Training with live steel was always a serious matter, especially when inexperienced youths were involved. He knew he'd have to be extra vigilant to ensure their safety.
Eddard acknowledged Ser Rodrik's acceptance with a firm nod, his gaze unwavering. "Make sure they are closely supervised and guided through the training, Ser Rodrik. We cannot afford any accidents."
Pausing briefly to gather his thoughts, Eddard continued, his voice steady. "Furthermore, starting tomorrow, I want our Valyrian guests—Aegon, Rhaenys, Alyssane, Daenerys, and Vaella—to join these training sessions as well."
Ser Rodrik's eyes widened in surprise at the mention of the Valyrians, but he maintained his composure, awaiting further explanation.
"As you wish, my lord," Ser Rodrik responded, though inwardly he wondered how the addition of the Valyrians would affect the dynamics of the training. He knew he would need to adjust his approach accordingly to accommodate their unique abilities and backgrounds.
Eddard nodded, acknowledging Ser Rodrik's acceptance. "Ensure they receive proper instruction, Ser Rodrik. Their safety is of the utmost importance."
Once Ser Rodrik had departed, leaving them alone, Eddard noticed the expression of astonishment on his brother's face, and before Benjen could speak, he said, "Ben, my wife Catelyn and I spoke with your wife and Lady Aelora this morning. They convinced us that it would be beneficial for us if the Valyrians stayed in Winterfell for a few months. It will give them a chance to learn our ways and build bonds with their peers."
Sensing there was more to it, Benjen retorted, "You haven't told me everything, brother."
"Ben," said Eddard, "There's a betrothal agreement. In a year, there will be a marriage between my son Torrhen and Vaella Balaerys here in Winterfell, followed by a ceremony in Valyria where Torrhen will marry according to Valyrian laws, both Vaella and Alyssane Targaryen."
"What's so amusing, brother?" Ned asked, somewhat confused as he noticed his brother laughing.
"Ah, so this was the family matter Ely mentioned this morning," Benjen remarked, a hint of amusement playing on his lips as he glanced at his brother, who appeared puzzled. "Brother, Elaena woke me up early today, informing me of her meeting with you and Catelyn in the wee hours. She mentioned discussing certain family matters with you and stressed that, as my brother, you were the most fitting person to relay the details of that gathering."
"There was another issue that was also discussed," replied Eddard with seriousness and a hint of regret in his voice. "We talked about Jon."
"I see," said Benjen, abandoning all the amusement from his face and adopting a serious demeanor.
Before they could delve deeper into their conversation, they noticed two youngsters approaching them. A girl of about 14 years old with long brown hair knotted behind her head and green eyes, and a boy of around 11 years old with unusually deep green eyes. Eddard noticed with curiosity that the boy was wearing green-colored clothing, even his boots.
As they reached them, they bowed deeply before Eddard. The girl with long brown hair said, "Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, my name is Meera Reed, and I am accompanied by my brother Jojen Reed. We are the children of Lord Howland Reed."
In a whisper to Eddard, Benjen remarked, "Brother, the lad has more than meets the eye. There's powerful magic within him."
Just then, Bran, who had also arrived at that moment, rushed to join them, and as he and Jojen locked eyes, a smile lit up Jojen's face.
CATELYN AND JON
Catelyn Stark found herself standing outside the door to Jon Snow's chamber. Her heart pounded with a mixture of apprehension and resolve as she raised her hand to knock. It had been years since she last exchanged words with the boy she once resented so deeply.
As the door creaked open, Catelyn's eyes met Jon's, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. There was a palpable tension in the air, a silent exchange of emotions that spoke volumes without a single word being uttered.
"Catelyn," Jon's voice was but a whisper in the quiet room, his surprise evident in the furrow of his brow.
Catelyn swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry as she stepped into the chamber, her gaze fixed on the ground. "Jon," she began, her voice trembling with emotion. "I... I need to speak with you."
Jon nodded solemnly, gesturing for her to take a seat by the hearth. As the flames danced and flickered, casting shadows across the room, Catelyn found herself struggling to find the right words, the weight of her past actions heavy on her heart.
"I came to... apologize to you and to ask for your forgiveness," she finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "For all the pain and suffering I've caused you over the years. I was... I was blinded by my own grief, my own fears, and I took it out on you, on an innocent child who never asked for any of it."
Jon listened in silence, his expression unreadable as he watched her closely. Years of resentment and bitterness threatened to rise within him, but there was something in Catelyn's eyes, a vulnerability he had never seen before, that gave him pause.
"I know I can never undo the past, never make amends for the things I've done," Catelyn continued, her voice wavering with emotion. "But I hope... I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me, to understand that I was only ever trying to protect my family, even if it meant pushing you away."
With those final words, Catelyn left the room, casting one last sorrowful glance at Jon before departing.
Jon, still surprised and confused, stared at the door of his chamber for a while before finally sighing. "Catelyn," he spoke softly, his voice filled with a quiet strength. "There is much that has transpired between us, much pain and sorrow that cannot be easily forgotten. But in the end, we are both bound by the ties of family, by the legacy of House Stark."
DAENERYS
The cold winter air enveloped Daenerys as she awoke from a night of tumultuous dreams. Images of Jon beyond the Wall haunted her sleep, filling her mind with worry and fear. With tears still in her eyes, she abruptly rose from her bed, feeling a sense of urgency gripping her heart.
As her gaze swept across the dimly lit room, a light caught her attention. In the corner, where she kept her precious dragon eggs, a soft glow emanated, drawing her towards it. With each step, her heart beat faster until she stood before the eggs, now cracked and fissured, their shells yielding to an unseen force.
Gasping in disbelief, Daenerys watched in awe as beams of light escaped from the eggs, intertwining with the shadows of the room. A sense of wonder mingled with apprehension as she realized that something extraordinary was unfolding before her very eyes.
With bated breath, she extended a trembling hand, hesitant yet compelled to touch the emerging creatures. As her fingers brushed against the fractured shells, a surge of energy pulsed through her veins, igniting a connection that transcended the bounds of reason.
In that moment, amidst the tranquil stillness of Winterfell, the dragon eggs cracked open completely, revealing three magnificent creatures bathed in the soft glow of morning. With their wings unfurled, they regarded Daenerys with a mixture of recognition and reverence.
"The first dragons born in Westeros after centuries," whispered Daenerys.