A Song of Fire, Ice and Hearts

by Jebest4781

Venturing outside of the Heart of his Somebody, a Nobody enters a World where it's at the brink of self destruction. Will he be able to handle and survive the Game of Thrones. Rated M for language, violence, etc. Pairings hidden at current time. KHXGoT/ASoIaF CoWritten by free man writer. Cover Image by Carlos M. Please leave reviews.

32. Wolves and Lions

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Disney, Square-Enix, Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire or anything else. They rightfully belong to their respective owners.

"Speech"

'Thoughts'

Writing/Singing

"Foreign Language/Flashback"

-Scene Shift-

Chapter 32: Wolves and Lions

Dust harshly blew throughout a barren wasteland.

It went on and on, traveling throughout the unending rocky badlands.

There was never a single ounce of flora and fauna. Not a single spark of life.

Only death was ever present.

Even if the wind billowed throughout the landscape, there were sounds being heard.

It could be considered faint or loud while clanky all the same.

When the dust storm eventually fell, the place fell to peace to reveal more of the rocky terrain.

Littering the majority of the landscape were Keyblades of all shapes and sizes. What was once bright with life inside of them had dulled greatly with the death of their wielders.

The battle took place here which has forever etched across its entire landscape. Where countless Keyblade wielders -both Light and Dark- fought against each other.

The purpose? Why… it was for obtaining the ultimate Key: the χ-blade.

The Key to Kingdom Hearts itself.

And it all took place here which will forever be called the Keyblade Graveyard.

This plane of reality is all that remains of the Keyblade War eons ago. And there was so little about it, only that it was just the beginning…

To everything…

When darkness fell upon the War, the precious light fragmented in the aftermath and spread out like dandelions in order to preserve the remains.

Unknown to many Keyblade wielders of recent generations, this place was once a location for pilgrimage. Letting them learn of those who have fallen from ages past so they hopefully won't repeat the mistake in the future. Even, perhaps, uncovering some long lost secrets.

Yet not knowing the full history of things often leads to repetition, one way or another.

Sweeping across the massive Graveyard, the wind traveled towards a massive landmass. It was composed of thirteen large stone pillars which reached towards the very sky.

Nearby the foot of this natural structure, a Dark Corridor erupted from the barren earth.

Stepping out of it was one of the members of the second iteration of Organization XIII, Vanitas.

Once a foot away from the passageway, a torrent of fallen Keyblades rocketed out of it and sailed across the barren badlands so they may return from whence they came. Before long, the Dark Corridor disbursed into darkened whisps once the last Keyblade came out of it.

"Don't you look like crap."

Glancing towards the side, he spotted the Freeshooter of the Organization.

Xigbar bore a jagged scar running up on his left cheek. His long black and silver ponytail reached far along his back. His ears were pointed along the end. And an eyepatch was worn around the man's right eye while the other was sickly gold in color.

The ears and eye color were inherited when the Freeshooter became one of Xehanort's vessels. As for the eyepatch and scar, they were gifts he received from his encounter with the Keyblade wielder -Terra- when they first fought nearly twelve years ago.

"You would too if you took quite the beating." Came the newcomers' snide response.

Xigbar barked out a chuckle on Vanitas' somewhat dour mood.

"I take it Roxas was a tough cookie."

Vanitas grunted.

"Stronger than you reported, for starters." Vanitas rotated his shoulder, openly wincing at some of the pain. "A lot stronger. Damn near had me at several points in time."

"Now that's something I'd like to see." Xigbar snorted, mocking grin directed at the dark Keybearer.

He sneered back at the Freeshooter. "Of course you would."

"And I can tell you'll want to face him again."

Vanitas huffed and crossed his arms, a malicious smirk appearing a moment later. "Is there any doubt?"

Xigbar merely snorted. "Even after all these years, that pride of yours still burns strong. Well, enough lollygagging. The old man's calling a meeting."

"Where is the old coot anway?"

Xigbar wordlessly looked ahead in another direction towards the base of a large thirteen pillared structure.

He spotted a figure standing far ahead in the distance and in an instant, he and Xigbar blurred out of sight.

Appearing some distance away, Vanitas saw two people waiting for them.

The first was Saix, the Lunar Diviner.

He was a tall man with long blue hair with a wild look on top. On his face was a distinguished X-shaped scar, with the vertex of this "X" lying between his eyes and extending from halfway up his forehead to just under his eyes. And as a vessel of Xehanort, his eyes were amber in color and same went with his pierced pointed ears, just like Xigbar.

The other… was the old man; their leader of the true Organization XIII: Keyblade Master Xehanort.

Bald with tanned skin, a silver goatee, pointed ears, broad hunched shoulders and sickly yellow eyes. His clothing was composed of a white and black coat with a red inner lining, which is worn over a white shirt with two thin black belts, as well as white gloves and calf-high black boots. What would appear to be a feeble old man was in fact one of the most powerful Keyblade wielders to have ever lived.

"We're here, old man." Vanitas greeted boredly.

Xehanort was presently sitting comfortably at the nearby rock, bearing a seemingly nostalgic look on his face. He didn't regard the master of the Unversed with anything as he appeared lost to his memories.

Soon hearing the old Keyblade master chuckle, Xigbar voiced a question. "What's so funny, old man? Mind sharing with us?"

Opening his eyes, Xehanort gazed at the trio before him as he stood from his seat. "I stand here today because of a fated encounter, very many years ago, when I was still a young lad. I never learned who he was, and perhaps I never will. But I see now the truth he spoke of."

What was spoken appeared quite vague, due to Xehanort not wanting to divulge the details of this old, spoken conversation.

The Freeshooter merely scoffed. "We don't have time for bedtime stories. Without the kid, we're down a thirteenth vessel, and as for the other twelve, only four of us are here right now."

The "kid" Xigbar is referring to is in fact Sora.

You see, when the two islanders -Sora and Riku- embarked on their Mark of Mastery Exam in the Sleeping Worlds, the Organization hijacked it so they may lure the brown-haired Keybearer into a trap. And it was successful, putting Sora into a deep slumber so he would be utterly vulnerable and not resist the darkness swallowing him up.

Yet the plan to make Sora into the ideal thirteenth and final vessel became a failure once the kid's friends came barging in and interrupted the "heart transplant".

As a result, the real Organization had to move their operations from the World that Never Was to here. It was a means for the Guardians of Light to not find them right away, due to them perhaps assuming they'd still operate on that other World.

"Are you absolutely sure the others made their way back to their respective times?"

Regarding the Freeshooter's question, Xehanort and Saix glanced at each other before disappearing from their placements. Soon after, Xigbar and Vanitas followed soon after.

Appearing at the natural structure nearby, the present members of the Organization stood on the tops of their respective pillars.

With a wave of his hand, Saix conjured several ethereal copies of Luxord, Marluxia and Larxene on top of the other pillars.

"Marluxia and Larxene are both here in this time, attempting to locate the New Seven Hearts."

"And since I have so much time on my hands since my reformation, I had lent my assistance in finding the other Princesses." Vanitas rudely added into Saix's briefing. "And it seems we're closer to finding them all."

Xehanort regarded the Sora look-alike with a small chuckle while Saix and Xigbar looked at him with bits of curiosity.

Of course, things needed to resume on the status of their numbers.

"Luxord is also somewhere about in this age," resumed Saix, "but after our last meeting, he went in search of something, per your order." The Luna Diviner put more focus on the last part as he gazed at Xigbar. "Isn't that so?"

"Heh~ Oh, that, right… Well, let's just say that what he's doing will benefit us in the long run, but it's really of no importance right this second." Xigbar said offhandedly.

Vanitas raised a curious brow on what the Freeshooter was talking about. No doubt he will search for Luxord and ask about this order bestowed upon him.

"Playing your cards close, as usual." Saix gazed up at Xehanort, wanting to see what the old Keyblade Master would want to do on this matter. But it seemed he didn't care at this time, merely brushing it off, as it were. "Alright then."

Waving his arm once more, Saix conjured more ethereal copies of their members; specifically those directly connected to Xehanort himself.

"The hearts of Ansem, Xemnas, Riku Replica and Young Xehanort returned to where they came from, and reassembled once more. Each of them is seeking a guardian of light."

Xigbar let out a soft hum from his lips as he digested this bit of information. "So the ones who turned human and then back into Nobodies are me, you (Saix), Luxord, Marluxia and Larxene- that's five.

"I make six, due to me reforming after all these years." Vanitas added in.

"And the ones from the past transferred into Replicas are Ansem, Xemnas, Riku Replica and the old man's younger self." Continued on the eyepatch wearing Nobody. "Then we add in the old man himself, the total comes up to eleven."

"If the math is right, that means we're short two people." Voiced the Sora look-alike.

Xehanort merely smiled before he addressed the three present. "Now we must discuss why we have assembled here today. My incarnations from past times, vessels into which I transferred my heart, my essence, were destroyed. Thus, I was restored to what you see now. For one to completely disappear, their heart and body must be restored to their original form. That is one reason why I distributed my heart into several vessels."

Gazing towards the Nobody and Heartless counterparts, the old Keyblade Master continued. "Ansem and Xemnas originated from Terra, or rather his young form- and it too was restored. However, my heart has returned to me, while his is yet lost."

With a wave of his hand, Xehanort conjured the ethereal copy of Terra. But instead of his hair being a deep brown with blue eyes, he instead had silver hair and sickly golden eyes.

Upon looking at the twelfth vessel, Vanitas' face threatened to break in half, due to how it strained from the growing smile.

He wondered how Roxas would react upon seeing this fallen Keyblade wielder among their ranks.

"I decided to fill this hollow vessel with my heart- indeed, the very same heart that previously resided within young Terra."

"So that makes twelve. Then who do we get to replace the kid?"

Xigbar's question did prove some merit due to the importance of the final vessel, as per Xehanort's wishes.

Saix picked things up from there. "Twenty replicas were created by Vexen. The first twelve were nothing more than puppets, barely human. The prototype model was later used to create the Riku Replica, which was soon used at Castle Oblivion in order to be studied for… other memberships and uses. And then No. i was made soon after."

With a wave of his hand, Saix conjured an ethereal copy of the hooded form of their fourteenth member of the first iteration of the Organization.

"They were used for Ansem, Xemnas, Riku Replica and Young Xehanort's hearts- four vessels, two left."

"Ah, yes~ the spares." Voiced the Sora look-alike. "Outside of having some replicas perhaps getting destroyed prior to the upcoming War, one or perhaps two of the old man's close incarnations can use them. But please answer this bit of curiosity of mine, why are Vexen and Demys still kept in our exclusive group?"

"Outside of being back ups in case of anything were to occur prior to enacting the War, each holds their own purposes." Explained the Luna Diviner. "Vexen is to help maintain the replicas and gather more research data. As for Demyx… there is something else which will be discussed later."

Vanitas wasn't really buying that last one. He had met the laid back Melodious Nocturne beforehand and didn't see him all that impressive. Sure he had a high affinity to water and sound manipulations, but aside from those there wasn't anything else.

Yet there seemed to be something else about him of some important significance.

Not wanting to give himself a headache of overthinking this topic, Vanitas merely sighed before waving at Saix to continue.

"Now… the plan for the last vessel is to give it a heart that is connected to Sora's."

"Connected to Sora?" Questioned Xigbar. "Anyone in mind?"

"As we have known beforehand, Roxas was the utmost ideal candidate to fill in this spot, prior to him becoming too aware of himself and returning to his Somebody." Said the blue-haired Organization member. "After that, we sought Sora himself but that is no longer an option. With that, we sought the second prototype, No. i."

Looking towards the ethereal copy of the fourteenth member of the first iteration of the Organization, the others heard Saix's explanation.

"Though erased from memory, it remained in Vexen's records. Its existence is greatly linked to Sora's memories, and thus should prove to be more than adequate for our needs."

"Heh~ No. i… An imaginary number, how fitting of the concept of a true Nobody." Mused the Sora look-alike. "Yet I couldn't help but notice you said 'sought'."

"I did."

"Something happened to No. i, didn't it?"

This piqued the interest of Xigbar and Vanitas, who weren't in the know beforehand. And Master Xehanort's small smile shifted into a frown.

Saix spoke with a starting sigh. "No matter what attempts Vexen has made in attempting to recreate No. i, they have all been met with failure."

"Failure, you say?" Xehanort spoke up, looking down at the blue haired man who nodded.

"All that he had managed to convey was that every replica of No. i vanished or broke down in a matter of seconds." Saix stated. "After several more failed attempts, Vexen has concluded that there is an outside force interfering with us being unable to fill the thirteenth slot of the Organization."

"Huh." Now Xigbar frowned. "Any theories as to why? That Icy dude always has some sort of cock-brained scheme or science term for this sort of thing."

Saix was silent for a few moments.

"He mentioned something of a missing link or… something he himself couldn't quite describe."

"That's not really all that helpful." Vanitas drawled out.

"What did he say exactly?" Xehanort inquired.

Said crossed his arms with one hand rubbing his chin. "While not exactly specific with the details, Vexen spoke of how every replica made… refused to comply with what it had been created to do. Not in terms of its consciousness but it's own existence. Does that make any sense to any of you?"

"Not at all." Vanitas waved off.

Xigbar looked up for a moment in thought. "Perhaps."

"This will no doubt bear some more investigation on Vexen's part. Until then, the planned thirteenth seat will be either kept on hold or filled with Vexen or Demyx when the War commences."

The old Keyblade master gave a reluctant nod, with signs of some displeasure of not getting what he sought on his thirteenth vessel. But for now he'll settle with what he has.

With that said, Saix resumed. "While Young Xehanort is occupied with transferring hearts, I must go fulfill my duty. I will go and retrieve the others."

"Reliable as always, aren't ya." Chuckled out the Freeshooter. "It sounds to me like you've got everything dependably under control." Breaking his visual contact with Saix, Xigbar gazed over at Master Xehanort. "Whelp, I'm off to do my part. Later."

Conjuring a Dark Corridor, the one-eyed Nobody let it swallow him up so he may depart from the Graveyard.

The old Keyblade Master soon gazed upon Saix, who spoke then after.

"The plan, as we agreed upon."

A Dark Corridor erupted and swallowed the Luna Diviner as he too left the Graveyard. With him, all of the other ethereal copies disbursed.

The only ones left in this meeting place were the two Keyblade wielders, who soon looked upon each other.

"Things gonna go like last time?" Vanitas asked in a bored manner. "I don't wanna wait another decade or so, old man."

Xehanort 'hmphed' in amusement.

"One way or another, it shall come to an end at the promised time and place."

Vanitas rolled his eyes. "Here's to hoping then."

A moment later, a dark corridor whisked away the Sora-look alike, leaving the old Keyblade master on his own.

Looking towards the dusted sky, Xehanort took on a far off gaze as many things were falling into place.

"May your heart be your guiding key…"

-Presumably on the Kingsroad-

The sounds of nature could be heard. It was quite rich in the present environment. So too was the smell as it wasn't tainted by collected and compacted filth like back at King's Landing.

Tyrion wished he could enjoy it. He unfortunately couldn't due to his present predicament for these past several days.

It all began with the accusation that he sought to end the life of Bran Stark for some apparent reason.

And he was put into a tough predicament back at the Crossroads Inn, surrounded by all sides. All he could do then was comply and go with her or else he may lose his life.

It had been the only possible course. Trying to cut his way out of it was a sure invitation to an early grave.

As for his guards, they were forced to come along as well as they were sworn to protect him. They could even try to attack Lady Catelyn and those who joined her on their trek back to Winterfell. Yet in doing so might cause a war, let alone costing Tyrion his life. And for insurance, their weapons were taken away on Lady Catelyn's orders.

As for Yoren of the Night's Watch, whatever his feelings might have been, was sworn to not take part in any quarrels of the realm. He was sadly forced to step aside, let the others take the Imp and part ways to parts unknown.

From there, the assembled group immediately hit the road as the rain resumed.

Tyrion wasn't truly afraid in the slightest. They wouldn't get to Winterfell in time as word will spread and riders would be after them within a day.

Still, it was a miserable, pounding journey over rough ground. The hood he was forced to wear muffled all sound and the rain soaked it until it was hard to breathe.

Outside of him, his guards, Lady Stark and Ser Rodrik, there were other people in their little entourage. An untold number of them were men who wanted to deliver justice towards Catelyn Stark's son or being honorbound to serve their siege lord's daughter.

Amongst their company was a sellsword named Bronn, the same person who sold his room back at the Crossroads Inn for a gold dragon. He was a man with slicked back dark brown hair with an unkempt beard adorning his face, wearing a full brown attire with a sword strapped to his side.

Marillion, the bard, joined their merry group as he could smell adventure. And adventures can spark ideas for a man like him so he may potentially write new songs; in which he hopefully became popular one day.

Of course everyone, even the captive Lannister, thought the bard should be anywhere else but there, given he was starting to become an annoying prick with his bad attempts in making new songs. And Tyrion wondered if Marillion would still think of this adventurous trek quite so splendidly once Lannister riders caught up with them.

Bronn, on the other hand, tagged along for the hell of it. Like Marillion, he too can smell adventure. Gold as well. And the whole present company perhaps gave the opportunities for both.

With how potentially dangerous the road to Winterfell can be, Bronn can get a good fight for his troubles. And he can get a bit more reputation for some potential clients later on if he played his cards right.

The rain had stopped and dawn light was seeping through the wet cloth over his eyes when Catelyn Stark called for a period of rest.

Soon, Tyrion was yanked off from his horse before heard Catelyn speak out a command to someone in their company.

"Remove his hood."

The wet cloth over his head was pried off, letting his eyes finally adjust to his surroundings at a slow pace. As he took note of things, Tyrion noticed the rocky landscape around them. It was cold, but not the kind of cold unique around and beyond the Neck.

"-On that eve, the captive Imp downwards from his horse did limp, no more would he preen and primp, in garb of red and gold…" Sang Marillion as he strumbed his string instrument.

Throughout his life, he had imagined killing mothers, fathers, nephews, lovers, men and women, kings and whores who greatly annoyed him in a variety of ways. This singer now joined their company, so Tyrion thought the bastard would do nicely in being boiled in a stew.

And yet the Lannister silently prayed to the gods to silence this annoying bard in any manner they saw fit.

In mere moments, Tyrion was brought before Catelyn Stark with Ser Rodrik standing beside her.

"This isn't the Kingsroad." Noted the Lannister imp. "You said we were riding for Winterfell."

Catelyn straightened as she responded. "I did… often and loudly."

"Very wise."

Tyrion had to at least admit, Lady Catelyn was clever on her one action.

If only she was smart enough to know he had nothing to do with harming Bran Stark. Because this was outright idiotic.

"They'll be out in droves, looking for me in the wrong place." Said Tyrion.

All his life, the Imp of House Lannister prided himself on his cunning- the only gift the gods had seen fit to give him. And yet Catelyn Stark had outwitted him.

Well two can play this game.

"Word's probably gotten to my father by now. He'll be offering a handsome reward. Everyone knows a Lannister always pays his debts." Tyrion said as a reminder to everyone present, hoping that any of them can take the bait at some point. Soon holding up his bound arms, he asked a simple question to his captors. "Would you be so kind as to untie me?"

Catelyn gave out a small sneer. "And why would I do that?"

"Why not? Am I going to run? The hill tribes would kill me for my boots. Unless a shadowcat ate me first. Or at the very least a Heartless if it sprang from out of nowhere."

From a number of men of their company, they had to admit Tyrion made a good little argument.

"Shadowcats, hill tribes and Heartless are the least of your concerns."

Processing things more through his mind, recognition came to fruition. "Ah… we aren't on the Kingsroad, but the Eastern Road. We're going to the Vale. You're taking me to your sister to answer for my imagined crimes."

Once spoken, a question entered the dwarf's mind. Why the Eyrie of all places and why not Riverrun?

Catelyn's ancestral home was closer at the time. Not to mention it would be harder to possibly get Tyrion out of there once kept inside. For once the drawbridge was raised, any would-be invader would have a hard time getting in due to it's high walls and very deep and wide moats. The seat of House Tully even had stores of foodstuff and provisions which would last for months, making certain sieges hard to work with.

The Eyrie, however, was farther away and had a more troublesome journey to get to with it's terrain and occasional hazards.

It honestly would save the time and effort to go to Riverrun rather than the seat of House Arryn. Not to mention saving him time on getting reacquainted with Lysa Arryn, which he was not looking forward to.

Yet that won't be able to be answered anytime soon.

"Tell me, Lady Stark, when was the last time you saw your sister?"

"Five years ago."

The imp snorted at her answer, shaking his head in a disparaging manner.

"She's changed." He informed her. "She was always a bit touched, but now… you might as well kill me here."

Catelyn felt angered at the jab on her sister. While she didn't voice it, she couldn't outright deny the fact Lysa was occasionally odd at times.

Yet Lady Stark was merely annoyed by the insult her captive said.

"I am not a murderer, Lannister." Cat venomously stated.

"Neither am I!" Came Tyrion's proclamation. "I had nothing to do with the attempt on your son's life!"

"The assassin was armed with your dagger-"

"What sort of imbecile arms an assassin with his own blade? 'Here you are, take this blade that can be easily traced back to me. I don't wish to leave any mysteries.'." The Lannister shot back in growing aggravation, causing Catelyn to hold her tongue.

Once more, Tyrion made a good point.

In some ways, one can see arming an assassin with their contractor's weapon can be interpreted in a few ways.

One can be sending a message from one party to another for a supposed slight or a warning. Yet another could be a frame up job if someone could think hard enough on the situation.

But in all fairness, it was rather ridiculous when you thought about it on the present issue.

It was then that Ser Rodrik spoke up. "In all honesty, Lord Tyrion, I'm sorry and I wish it hadn't come to this. I tried reasoning with her-"

"Rodrik!" Yelled Catelyn, feeling offended in seeing her husband's Master-at-Arms defend the Imp of House Lannister.

"You are blinded by grief, my Lady. Bran almost died and you started jumping to conclusions, despite what evidence we collected and Roxas' thoughts on the matter." Rodrik said patiently.

While Tyrion was thankful someone in their company was defensively voicing on his behalf, he did become curious on what evidence Lady Catelyn and Ser Rodrik had found on his supposed crime.

And what was this about Roxas? How exactly was he involved?

Before he could voice his inquiry on the matter, Tyrion saw the flickers of doubt and some semblance of sense surfacing in Catelyn's eyes. "Could… have Petyr lied to me? But why?"

"Why would a bear shit in the woods?" Tyrion stated to her. "Because it's in its nature. Lying comes easily as breathing to Littlefinger. You of all people ought to know that."

Catelyn rounded back towards him with her face tightening. "And what does that mean, Lannister?"

"Why, every man at court has heard him tell how he took your maidenhead." Tyrion said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

That practically got a snarling reaction out of her. Not to mention some varying chuckles or confused reactions from the rest.

"Oh~ that is quite something, you wicked little imp." Marillion said aloud.

"That is a lie!" Catelyn screeched out. "Petyr wanted my hand in marriage once. His passion was a tragedy for all of us, but it was real and pure and nothing to mock about."

"I'm sorry to tell you this but your old friend has never loved anyone but himself. And I promise you, it's not your hand that he boasts of; it's those breasts of yours, your sweet mouth and the heat between your legs."

Suddenly, Tyrion was yanked back by his hair and a moment later, he felt the cold kiss of steel against his throat.

"Shall I bleed him, my lady." Spoke one of the men, who Tyrion recognized served under House Bracken due to the embroidered horse on his clothes.

Once more Ser Rodrik came to Tyrion's defense. "If you kill him, then we may never know the truth."

Catelyn nodded and ordered the man to let the Lannister go.

Rubbing his throat, Tyrion voiced a question. "Now… How did Littlefinger say I came by this dagger? Answer me that."

Yet before she got the chance to answer, a rock slammed into Marillion.

The wooden harp the bard carried was harshly destroyed before another rock struck his head and knocked him out cold.

For a quick, split second, Tyrion had to thank the gods for silencing the bard. Another second later, he began cursing them for what came after.

Rushing in from both sides of the road and stationed on the high ground were members of the Hill Tribes. And by their estimated count, it was in total to a couple dozen.

The very sight of them caused quite the bit of panic as nearly everyone in their party had drawn out their weapons.

To Tyrion, the world quickly turned into chaos.

His ears became overloaded with sound as he heard metal clashing against metal. And within that came the screams and yells of both men and the frightened horses nearby.

Rodrik hurriedly moved Catelyn behind a large rock, out of harm's way, while the men -mainly Bronn- were beginning to successfully defend themselves against the tribesmen.

As he faced them off, Bronn was attacking them like a shadowcat; being fierce and quick to end things as best as possible. He was cutting through several necks before occasionally kicking and cutting through their chests and limbs to greatly incapacitate and eventually kill them.

Among the scuffle, Tyrion saw Catelyn pull out a small dagger and quickly made his way over.

"Untie me. If I die, what's the point?"

Without much hesitation, due to the adrenaline and fear washing over her, she started cutting the bindings off of the dwarf. Once freed, Tyrion soon spotted the shield with the painted horse of House Bracken across its surface lying some distance away. He rushed over as quickly as he could and procured it as a means of defending himself.

Looking back, he notices a tribesman nearing Catelyn and without time to think, he rushes to her aid.

When the tribesman was about to strike the highborn lady, Tyrion bashed his procured shield against his leg, sending him to the ground howling in pain. A blow to the face soon followed as the attacker was now on his back. Before he could instinctively grasp his bleeding, broken nose, Tyrion continued his assault by stabbing the sharp end of the shield into his face repeatedly.

Soon enough, the tribesman died as his face became a mushy mess. Work on it some more and Tyrion might've made wine from it.

When he was done, Tyrion looked around and saw the fighting had ended when he wasn't looking. The enemies were vanquished or rather vanished, he wouldn't know for sure.

Soon enough, he and the other survivors surveyed the rest of the area.

Dead bodies, both allies, enemies and horses littered the space with their blood and meat soon staining the earth. There were dying or wounded men here and there, moaning or screaming. Hard to really tell at this point until an actual count has been made.

One thing was for sure, the Lannister men sworn to protect Tyrion were presently dead. This left the dwarf rather uncomfortable for what's to come.

Rising to her feet, Lady Stark silently thanked her hostage before making her way to Ser Rodrik. Seeing the bloodstains on his leather tunic, Catelyn spoke out in worry.

"Rodrik?"

She gently reached out to touch his shoulder. The second she contacted him, he was momentarily startled due to the recent battle.

"I'm fine, my Lady. There's no need to bloody yourself."

Walking up to the Lannister, who was standing a distance away from the others, Bronn spoke to him. "Your first?"

Tyrion was feeling a tad tired after what he had done mere moments ago. To him, he could've sworn they'd been fighting for hours, but in reality it was merely minutes.

Oh if his father were to see him now, he would be so proud… or just disappointed he didn't die.

He didn't voice it, but he responded back to Bronn with a nod.

"You need a woman." Said the sellsword. "Nothing like a woman after a fight."

"Well… I'm willing if she is."

Tyrion's reply got them both to laugh a bit along with several others.

During this little occurrence, Catelyn looked over to the dwarf with a question forming in her head.

If Tyrion was in fact guilty of his supposide crime, would he actually defend his primary captor?

He could've left her to the hill tribe's mercy and eventual violation and murder. Yet he didn't.

A number of survivors were now about and searching the dead. Either to properly pull out their deceased and wounded allies or pilfer the corpses of anything of value. After all, the dead ain't keeping their goods anymore.

Once Bronn retrieved the fine leather boots from one of Tyrion's dead guards, he along with several others saw dark pools forming on the ground.

"The hell?"

Whereas many of the survivors looked on in worried curiosity, those who knew better -i.e. Tyrion, Catelyn and Rodrik- were outright terrified now.

"Oh fuck." Muttered the Imp.

In a split moment, surrounding them all were the ever present dangerous Heartless.

"We are all going to die." Tyrion said weakly.

"Quickly." Rodrik shouted to the surviving combatants, a vial in hand. "Ironwood resin. Get this on your blades. It shall strengthen them against the Heartless!"

"You're out of your mind that-"

The man wasn't able to reply as he was quickly slain by a Heartless, quickly startling those not experienced with them.

"Do it you fools!" Tyrion shouted, well aware that the North was the first of the seven Kingdoms that was "graced" by these terrifying creatures. He was informed through gossip on the royal retinue's trip towards Winterfell that it appeared that the North had developed a means in which to combat the Heartless without the need of the son of Ventus to assist them.

He had also seen this in action during his stay in Winterfell, watching many of the Northerners douse their weapons with this resin Rodrik now had.

"Do as the man says." Tyrion barked out. "He knows how to kill these bastards."

Hearing the "captive" imp shout in support of the Master-of-arms caused many to make a run towards the man to grab the offered Resin.

Others were not able to reach the Master-at-Arms in time as they were either knocked back or slain by the Heartless. Such a result on the latter will no doubt haunt the other men in the group for years to come.

Tyrion internally cursed at not having a proper weapon right about now. In passing during his stay in Winterfell, servants had spoken of Ned Stark slaying Heartless and in the past, the Unversed with the use of House Stark's ancient Valyrian blade, Ice.

At this moment, he honestly yearned to have his lost ancestral Valyrian sword Brightroar to help protect him. And all he got now was his pilfered shield and an axe he soon acquired from a dead hill tribesman.

He watched as Bronn swung his sword, slicing through the neck of a Soldier that destroyed it and he got back into stance waiting for his next opponent.

A Neoshadow twitched about before jumping forward to pounce upon Bronn who hastily threw his sword up.

However, before the Neoshadow could reach the sellsword, a red figure pounced from seemingly nowhere and tackled the Heartless to the ground. This newcomer appeared to be a beast of some kind as it was on all fours and the way in which it dispatched the pinned down Neoshadow was by literally biting through its head.

It was an orange-red furred lion or wolf-like beast with a thin brown mane. It's right eye was scarred and it's remaining one is ochre.

From there things were quite odd about the creature.

For one, it adorned a variety of beads, earrings and feathers around its head with golden pastern braces and tattooed tribal brands on its legs. One of these brands bore the symbol "XIII" on it's upper left leg. The tip of it's tail honestly had a lit flame, which burned brightly.

Time seemingly froze for the briefest of moments as all eyes turned to the new player in the field.

It turned to gaze at those that were alive with an eye that conveyed a greater degree of intelligence then it let on.

In an instant, it jumped forward towards Tyrion, who stumbled back in surprise only for the creature to sail past him and grab another Heartless into its jaws. Biting down hard, the Heartless was destroyed and a moment later, it was already jumping at another Heartless.

"Seven Hells." Catelyn whispered, hand over her chest at the sight of this beast that proceeded to slaughter the Heartless with apparent ease.

The group watched as the red furred creature ran about the small area, jumping, biting, clawing and tail whipping the Heartless out of existence.

The last of the Heartless was soon slain, the entire area was swept up in a silent shock as all those that survived stared at the bizarre creature that stood before them.

It took a moment to regard them all, briefly lingering on several of them; those being Catelyn, Rodrik, Bronn and Tyrion.

It then let out what seemed to be a scoff of some kind and bounded away, running around a nearby rock formation and disappearing from sight.

The silence from the end of the small battle continued until one of the knights finally asked-

"The hell was that thing?"

"It looked like a… cat-dog?" Regarded a knight from House Whent.

"That's the best you can come up with?" Spoke a knight from House Frey.

"And you have a better idea?"

"I was thinking along the lines of a red furred shadowcat."

"Sounds too long."

The surviving knights began bickering amongst themselves in an effort to name the unusual creature whilst Lady Stark sat upon a rock to calm her beating heart.

"My lady."

Catelyn looked up to see Rodrik beside her.

"Are you well?"

Catelyn blinked. "That should be something I should be asking you, Rodrik."

"I am alive and well." Rodrik waved off.

"Then I am as well." Catelyn said, her heart rate slowly calming down.

"Good." Rodrik said, shoulders sagging in relief. "Come, Lady Stark. It is best not to dwell here any longer. We must press on with all haste. Either the hill tribes or Heartless will attack again and we will not survive another encounter."

Cat could only nod along numbly, taking a moment to compose herself.

"And what of that beast?" She found herself asking.

"Honestly? I have no idea, but perhaps still be on guard towards that as well."

"Hopefully we won't run into that again."

Tyrion said nothing during this exchange, only looking towards where that red furred creature was once at. Still surprised and curious about it.

Bronn grunted, sheathing his sword with a wary look at the path ahead.

"You know, I've heard some crazy shit that happened during the Rebellion." Brought up the sellsword. "Was it like this?"

"I'm not sure." Tyrion admitted. He was of course only a boy when Robert's Rebellion had transpired. "But I know that things are only going to get… stranger from the looks of things."

Bronn sighed aloud. "Not sure if that'll be worth any pay really."

"What about in experience?"

"Maybe…" Bronn looked down to his sword that had the residue of the Ironwood Resin flowing around it now.

-Kings Landing-

"Seven fucking Hells." King Robert Baratheon practically growled. "It's been close to twenty years. Nearly twenty years of believing that bastard to be gone and dead."

"We never saw him die." Ned Stark muttered, hands clasped upon the back of the chair reserved for the Hand of the King.

Within the Small Council chamber was a number of individuals not really associated with the present council to begin with but due to the severity of the matter, the whole notion was ignored.

"What of what you told me all those years ago?" Robert asked in anger. "You went to face him before reaching King's Landing with Ventus."

"That was just a confrontation to drive him back." Ned grumbled. "You knew that."

"But was he not dead?" Barristan asked.

For the first time since becoming Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Barristan Selmy finally took part in the Small Council meeting. Robert honestly commanded him to take part in this meeting.

And even if they weren't members, several other high born Lords were also present.

Aside from Cloud and Roxas being in attendance, Lord Tywin Lannister, Prince Oberyn Martell and Ser Garlan Tyrell were also seated within their own chairs. Jamie Lannister and several of the other Kingsguard stood around the room with Cersei Lannister constantly pacing about like a caged lioness.

"Only hearing the report you gave us of his supposed demise." Said the Old Lion of Casterly Rock.

"The source was genuine. I swear." Ned defended.

"Not genuine enough." Oberyn muttered distastefully.

The wounds were unbroken. With the Mountain gone from this world, the Martells could rest easier. But with the return of Vanitas… fear seeped through old scars.

And it wasn't just the Dornish House but several others throughout Westeros

"And who was this source, anyways?" Varys asked out of curiosity, voicing everyone else's present thought.

"Ventus' fellow student, friend and sister-figure; another Keybearer." Ned Stark revealed. "Her name was Aqua."

"And why haven't we heard of this detail beforehand?" Cersei finally asked.

Ned lowered his head, shaking his head.

"She requested that her arrival here was to be kept hidden." Ned murmured, reaching into his under shirt and pulled out his Wayfinder and gazed at it sadly. "She didn't want to interfere more than what Ventus and Vanitas had done to Westeros as a whole."

"Good lot that action did for us." Jamie muttered out, earning several nods in response.

"Well none of that shit matters right now." Robert slammed his fist down upon the table. "What matters right now is that the demented bastard has returned and we all know the shit storm he's going to brew up. What we need to figure out sooner than later is how do we kill him. Permanently this time."

"Easier said than done." Said Roxas, still feeling the effects of the fight he had with Vanitas earlier. The Dark Keybearer was one of the most powerful enemies he had ever faced.

"Then perhaps this is a matter better suited for those experienced in dealing with this sort of threat." Tywin Lannister stated, looking at Roxas and Cloud, the latter of whom lazily opened an eye to gaze upon them all.

"It'll be hard to track him down, for starters." Roxas began. "He isn't gonna be someone who stays in one place for too long."

"You're gonna be dealing with a lot more of those Unversed bastards as well." Cloud remarked. "Them with the Heartless… let's just say-"

"More dangerous times are ahead of us now." Oberyn said in a rather grim tone.

"I've been receiving disturbing reports across the Seven Kingdoms before this meeting began." Varys, Master of Whisperers, spoke up. "Multiple sightings and attacks of the Heartless and Unversed have begun to increase. My little birds are telling me growing fear and unrest are starting to spread across the land."

Many cringed upon hearing this. No doubt news of Vanitas' return will spread like wildfire across the entire continent and make things worse.

"Some have chosen to flee to the North of all places." Petyr Baelish couldn't help but snort aloud at the statement. "Word of the North's earlier dealings with the Heartless has been given the idea that they are most likely the most well equipped in dealing with these dark creatures."

"Why wouldn't they?" Cloud asked. "Roxas was there first. Taught them to, didn't ya?"

The blonde Nobody nodded as Ned Stark gave the boy a look of appreciation.

Robert snorted with a shake of his head. "Leave it to you Ned, to be prepared months in advance compared to the rest of us."

"In all honesty, I never intended to. It just did." Ned defended himself.

"No doubt the Ironwood resin and wood the Forresters have will need to be spread, not just to the rest of the North." Garlan pointed out. "After all, it's the only other commodity which can help defend and slay those monstrosities."

"That and Valyrian Steel." Jamie stated, looking over to the blonds that weren't Lannisters before glancing over to Oberyn. "Not to mention what other materials you and several others have in their possession. After all, I didn't see them apply the resin on their weapons beforehand."

"What of the magic Beric and Thoros utilized?" Cersei brought up. "They were effective."

"Blood magic." Varys tutted behind his sleeves.

"I wouldn't say that, Varys." Roxas defended.

The Eunuch gave the boy a rather stern look. "So you say."

The bald man leaned back into his seat and let out an exasperated sigh.

"I do have a question though, why make his return now?" He then gazed towards Roxas with a quizzical look. "What is his motive?"

"He mentioned something about Princesses." Cersei clenched her well made sleeves to the point of ripping them as fear momentarily overtook her. "Just like his last appearance, he was targeting Elia Martell. I will not have him lay his hands on my daughter."

"Same with my niece." Oberyn said in rare agreement with the Lannister with a disgruntled look. "And he said princesses. It's not just Princess Myrcella he might be aiming for. Aside from the Royal family and of mine, what other Princesses are there?"

A number of people within the chamber may have an idea who, given she is beyond the Narrow Sea.

"So your family is now in danger as well." Ned said with a saddened frown. "I'm sorry, Prince Oberyn."

"You are not to blame for this misfortune, Lord Stark." Oberyn waved him off. "Vanitas is a savage animal that will be put down this time should he choose to come for my family."

"Don't do anything drastic, you idiot." Cloud bluntly chastised the Dornish Prince, surprising many who were present. "In case you didn't notice, Roxas barely beat that crazy bastard at the Dragonpit. You saw his state after we found him. If you see him, do not engage."

The relic on Rhaenys' Hill became more or a ruin than it previously was. It became more of a closed off location now with the place about to fall over at any moment if the wrong action was made. Anyone who perhaps goes in there could perhaps die when it collapses.

But if anyone were to dare venture inside, they would see the true havoc of a fierce battle which took place there. Even if it were to get cleaned up, the scars where the two Keyblade wielders clashed will truly remain there for gods knows when.

Even before witnessing the end result of the fight, many throughout the city and it's borders had experienced a number of occurrences.

Countless people could hear loud clashes of metal for miles on end, due to Roxas and Vanitas continuously clashing their weapons against each other. Not to mention the explosions, the fires and number of other things which occurred within the ancient Dragonpit if one were close enough to Rhaenys' Hill to witness this.

Lastly was the sudden sunset filled with the rich, powerful and magnificent bright lights which had replaced the midday sky. It didn't last more than half an hour until the sky returned to normal.

Yet the event will no doubt be cemented in Westerosi history for years with songs being written to those of the Andal religion preaching a number of things here and there.

Oberyn was rather startled by this verbal response, blinking in surprise at the tall swordsman.

Robert couldn't help but guffaw slightly at such a blatant disregard of respect towards titles in the room.

"He's right, Oberyn." Roxas said, shaking his head. "At the very least you need to keep him at bay and find a way to get away from him. If any of you fight him, do so to run away."

"What of Ned?" Robert gestured to him. "He has fought against him before and survived."

"Survived, being the key word, your grace." Ned pointed out. "I always fought him with Ventus by my side and even then we barely made it out of those battles."

A brief lull of silence befell the council chambers only to be broken by Garlan Tyrell.

"Then what do we do now?" he asked the group in general.

"Now? Well I'm sad to say we must prepare for war." Declared Tywin. "Not just on Vanitas but those he's associated with." This bit drew in the curious attention of the others as the Old Lion gazed at Roxas. "I recall him speaking about someone you were once associated with. Some people you said were dead but are apparently alive."

Hearing the tales of the time before Roxas was spotted in the North was quite fascinating by many. More so on the fact upon hearing of his time in Organization XIII before his defection when they betrayed him.

Roxas frowned, looking down to the ground with a troubled expression.

"I… I wanna make sure that if it's the same people that I've dealt with before, I'm gonna have to go check them out." Roxas stated.

"You mean you plan on leaving the capital and going gods' knows where and gods' knows how long?" Robert asked flatly.

"He has his ways." Ned spoke up, surprising the group.

"Magic, I take it?" Voiced Renly.

Roxas nodded. "I won't spare you the details, but I won't be gone too long to begin with."

"See to it that you return as swiftly as you intend on departing." Tywin instructed, earning a derisive glare from the Keybearer.

"I'll be gone for as long as I need to." Roxas retorted. "This enemy that's coming is beyond anything all of you have ever fought. Even more powerful than Vanitas could ever hope to be."

That statement certainly created a deal of unease within the room as that was not something they had expected to hear.

Someone more powerful than Vanitas? The thought alone terrified them.

"But I promise I'll return when possible." Roxas assured them all. "And when I do, I'll inform you all on what I've found."

"You better. We're basically going to depend on you for this war against Vanitas and his forces." Robert said in a gruff tone before standing up from his seat. "Alright, enough of this matter. We've talked our ass off enough for this shit. We need to start preparing ourselves for whatever the hell is coming now that fucker is back."

Whether planned events were going to happen tonight to mark the end of the Hand's Tourney was more or less canceled now. Any and all lords, ladies and knights will have to return to their territories post haste to ready themselves for what's to come.

Many who were unaware of the coming threat were confused as to why they were being given orders of mobilization. But they will learn soon enough.

When everyone was leaving the chambers to get things started, Roxas came up to the Stark lord.

"Is something the matter?"

"We need to go to your office."

Ned raised a brow at this request. Looking over to Cloud, he saw the mercenary give a firm nod.

The Hand soon realized there were things that were left out in the initial meeting. Things only which those in the absolute know can only hear at this time.

When they left together, their little interaction didn't go unnoticed and earned a little bit of curiosity. Something which will need to be investigated at a later time.

Upon reaching Ned's office in the Tower of the Hand, the blonde Nobody immediately locked the door with his Keyblade. Not long after, he went to the windows and closed the curtains once checking no one was apparently there.

"You wished to speak with me in private, Roxas?" Ned asked his young friend, being joined by Cloud as well.

"Yes." Roxas nodded. "I have an idea as to what's going on and why Vanitas has returned."

Ned's eyes widened considerably, looking between both of them in surprise.

"You are certain of this?" Ned nearly whispered in shock.

"Roxas and I talked about this prior to the meeting." Cloud stated. "We went over a lot of details and we'll give you a rundown of what we're probably dealing with now that Vanitas is here."

"Being what exactly?"

With a grim, steady tone, the two blonde warriors revealed more truth to the Stark. Truth which will bring more worry onto his very soul.

-Later, Red Keep Gardens-

Roxas stood alone at one of the more scenic areas of the Castle Gardens that overlooked the sea. It was even a bit more captivating with the twilight hours lighting up the sky.

This place was one of the few areas in all of King's Landing where Roxas was able to get some semblance of tranquility that didn't involve so many people being around him.

There was also the vantage point of the Dragonpit where he sat with Sansa, Arya and Gendry to watch the lights of the Tourney of the Hand at night.

But other than that…

Roxas walked over to a chair and slumped himself down onto it.

He honestly hadn't realized how tired he had become but as of late, he's been feeling a lot more exhausted by the end of the day.

Fighting Heartless and Unversed were one thing, he was trained to fight these things on the daily, much as he loathed it.

But politics, betrothals and… whatever it was he had to deal with in regards to girls was a different matter entirely.

Roxas groaned with his hands now running over his face.

'Why does everything have to be so complicated down here?' Roxas thought to himself. 'Why can't they be like the North and just be straight forward?'

Shaking his head, No. XIII looked out upon the waters below with the many ships departing from King's Landing.

From his placement, he saw various Dornish ships depart and making their way back home. And he didn't have to look by the city gates to see the other major Houses leaving to their respective territories.

With the sudden return of Vanitas, the Houses needed to prepare for war. In doing so, they had to leave the capital post haste.

Most of the Lannisters and Tyrells left together while the rest would leave tomorrow due to the rushed demand. While they left by land, the Martells left by sea. Same with other Houses who came to the Hand's Tourney.

Lord Stark was already well aware of the threat of both the Heartless and now the returning Unversed and had simply sent out ravens to the Northern Houses for all to be on standby.

Of course, Roxas planned on heading out tomorrow to help speed up the process.

"There you are."

Roxas craned his head back to see Tyene Sand approaching him, coy smile in place.

"Hey Tyene." Roxas said drabbly.

Now one may wonder why Tyene was still here instead of being with the rest of her family.

Well, some of the major Houses needed a few people to represent them in the capital for the upcoming war planning. The Lannisters and Baratheons already had the litany of their members here, same with the Starks.

As for the Tyrells, Loras volunteered to stay here for the foreseeable future with an assembly of his Household guards whereas the Martells left behind Lewyn and Tyene with their own fighters.

Originally it was just going to be the former Kingsguard member, but Tyene "convinced" her family to stay with her gruncle. Roxas didn't know the specifics of the conversation, but he wasn't going to exactly pry.

The Sand Snake laughed. "What sort of greeting is that supposed to be? Someone piss in your soup at lunch today?"

"Didn't even eat." The Nobody murmured, slouching in his seat.

Roxas didn't get the chance to, due to the chaos which occurred at the melee and what followed afterward. He didn't even eat a little snack with how distracted he was.

But now that everything was somewhat settling down, his hunger was starting to come around.

The Dornish girl seated herself on the rock wall in front of Roxas and gazed at him quizzically.

"Everything alright with you?"

"I'm tired and annoyed." Roxas stated honestly.

Tyene dropped the jests as she gave him a concerned look.

"How are you really, Roxas?" She asked, showing worry.

"I just… I can feel things are gonna get hectic and dangerous." Roxas admitted aloud. "Vanitas, the Unversed, the Heartless and… enemies I thought were long gone. They're gonna be making their moves soon against people like myself."

"Like yourself?"

Roxas was silent for a moment. "They're like me, but have more power and experience. I don't even know if everyone I knew will actually return or not."

Tyene slowly processed the information he told her. "Like you as in… as in… do they also have the capacity to wield Keyblades?"

He gave her a small shake of his head. "Not all of them, I believe. Only Vanitas is a new addition. I don't know who else is in the new roster."

"But some do then?" Tyene reeled back with a clearly frightened expression.

Roxas could only shrug.

"Seven Hells, Roxas." Tyene said, voice cracking slightly. "Just where in the World do you come from?"

No. XIII could barely restrain his mirthful laugh. "From a place beyond your wildest imagination."

Tyene gave out one of her own. "Now that's giving me quite the challenge to learn the whereabouts."

"You'll take forever in finding it."

"Hmm~ challenge accepted."

Silence reigned over them for a small time, letting nature do its course in helping relieve their worries.

Whereas it did well with Tyene, the same can't be said with Roxas.

Frowning a little, dark eyes noticed the stress her sitting partner was having at this time.

Rising from her seat, the Sand Snake got behind the Keybearer.

"Here." Tyene placed her hands upon Roxas' shoulders.

"What are you doing?" he asked in confusion.

Tyene shot him a mischievous smirk. "Something I've been working on for a while now."

He didn't have time to inquire as to what it was when he felt her fingers begin to massage his shoulders.

In an instant he felt a great deal of physical tension get alleviated under her soft and slender fingers.

He groaned aloud, leaning further back into her hands.

"Where'd you learn that?" Roxas asked in surprise.

"Take a wild guess?" Tyene asked, mischief heard in her voice.

He let out a content sigh. "Madam M I take it?"

"She is quite the teacher." Tyene said, rubbing a spot by his neck. "And I'm quite the exceptional fast learner."

No. XIII silently agreed on this as he felt himself become far more relaxed as she went on. He closed his eyes as he started to be entrapped by the pleasure of relief.

"Oh dear." Tyene pouted. "I need to get a better vantage point to finish this massage properly."

"What're you-"

Roxas was unable to finish as the Sand Snake was now straddling his hips, placing herself upon his legs.

"There we go." Tyene whispered in a husky manner, slowly working her hands down from his shoulders to his arms.

"Tyene…" Roxas said warily.

"Shhh." Tyene hushed through half-lidded eyes and a smile he couldn't quite identify. "Just let me work with my magic."

Roxas would have laughed at that had Tyene not gone to his hands and he clammed up upon remembering what he went through with Madam M.

"T-Tyene." he now stuttered, finding himself shifting uncomfortably.

That growing smirk she had didn't alleviate his worries.

She shushed him once more as she gently ran her fingers over his gloved hand that she slowly peeled off.

Through her lessons with the Madam, Tyene never would have thought to learn more about the human body than outside of what her father recounted in his younger years. From being at the Citadel to his time in Essos and Yi Ti.

And yet Madam M was from Yi Ti and knows more on perhaps torturing or pleasing a person than anyone could ever know with merely the simplest of touches and movements which the mind heavily reacts towards.

Say what you want, but the human mind was extremely fragile, despite how one strengthens or weakens it through a number of means.

One can strengthen it through proper learning. One can weaken it through torture.

From what she learned from her instructor, women have many secret ways of expressing desire when it comes through massages. Through these small physical acts, it allows them to unlock a greater degree of understanding who it was they had at the mercy of their hands.

In captivating a person, one would often need to rely on the five senses.

Touching a person's cheek, chest or fingertips. Bringing out scents, reminding someone of a pleasant Summer or a grove of trees or flowers. Sound, whispering the love into their ear being all so light and gentle like a crystal bell. Sight, giving one a peculiar look that lingers which promises so much. And finally taste, which can make one hunger for many things.

And right now, Tyene could clearly see how really uncomfortably comfortable Roxas was becoming as she moved back up his arms to his shoulders and now his chest.

He was a maiden boy, that much was obvious to see though Tyene was a maiden herself. However, when one comes from Dorne known for their promiscuity and being the daughter of a man who defines such a term, you learn to pick up a thing or two growing up around in an environment like that.

So she was putting everything she had seen, learned and heard of about her kin and her latest teacher to the test and she felt that she could safely say that it was working quite well.

Color was starting to appear in the cheeks of the man of her affections and he kept twitching as if trying to fight back against the massage he was receiving.

Of course she herself felt flushed with slight embarrassment at the brazen nature that she was performing being so close to the boy she had fallen for.

By this point, Tyene felt it pointless to deny her longing and affection she had towards this strange and wonderful teen before her. He was so different from everyone else in her life and unlike anything she had ever experienced.

And she wanted him badly.

"You know Roxas." Tyene spoke in a low voice. "You sometimes need to find ways to relax from all this stress."

Roxas grunted slightly, feeling her apply pressure to his chest.

"I sometimes do."

"Like what?" She whispered.

"Seeing… the sunset." He breathed out.

Tyene hummed as she liked that particular means, but it wasn't enough.

"And?"

"Being… with the people I care for."

She slowly moved her hand up to his face.

"Do I count among them?" Tyene asked, though in the back of her mind, there was a moment of fear.

Blue eyes opened as he stared into her dark ones. Eyes which bore concern for the man before her.

"I… I think so."

"Think so?"

Roxas took a deep breath as he glanced down for a moment before he nodded.

"No… I know so." Roxas said with a smile now present. A smile that many ladies have seen by this point and have swooned under.

But a rare few were lucky enough to see it this close in proximity and see the way his eyes gave a "sparkle" of sorts that just made him more handsome then he appeared. And they perhaps highlighted more with a sliver of twilight gracing over his blue eyes to make them brighter.

"Fool." Tyene abruptly said, making Roxas blink. "Don't say something like that with that blasted smile of yours."

Roxas had no chance to respond as Tyene slammed her lips upon his and kissed him something fierce. She fully lay her body upon his and wrapped her arms around his head as a means of pulling him closer.

The young Nobody's mind shut down as he felt her lips against his own.

She didn't kiss him for long, pulling back to whisper-

"It's rude not to kiss back you know." Was all she said before kissing him once again.

Not exactly knowing how to really respond, Roxas sat there for a few seconds, unresponsive until his eyes slowly closed with his arms making their way towards her back.

Tyene leaned further in as she cupped his cheek and gently massaged his lips with hers.

She didn't want to rush it further like the one she gave him last night. He was new to something like this as was she really and she didn't want to do anything even more daring than what she had already done here.

Breaking away from the kiss, Roxas whispered her name.

"Tyene."

"Please, Roxas." She whispered back. "I know you're stressed, hurt even, but can't you please let me in. Let others in." She leaned her head and had their foreheads touch. "You don't need to shoulder your burdens alone."

"I…" Roxas hesitated. "Tyene… what I have to go through, you'll get hurt. A lot of people I care for have already been lost to me because of it."

"I don't care." Tyene proclaimed. "I don't want you to endure such hardships by yourself. It isn't fair to you. I want to be by your side for it all."

He'd done so much for her family in so little time. He made a connection with them. Made them happy. He helped avenge them. It was only right as they repay their debt, one way or another.

"So please…"

Saying nothing more, she gave him a chaste kiss.

*Badump*

Blue eyes widened in alarm. Feeling that peculiar feeling in his chest again.

Roxas was confused with how this was happening. He experienced this as he kissed Sansa last night and never thought of feeling it again.

As he was thinking this over, Tyene pulled away and got off his lap.

"Sorry if I was going too far." Began the Sand Snake as she looked away. "I just wanted you to know and-"

"I… It's… It's alright." Roxas said, reaching out and grasping her hand. "You don't have to say anything."

Tyene stared down at his hand and moved her own to hold his in return, gently squeezing it.

Their hands were together in a gentle hold. Their eyes met as the twilight reached them to brighten them even more. And smiles which brought a reassurance and warmth-

*BA-DUMP BA-DUMP*

One more, Roxas was startled by the feeling in his chest.

Tyene was quick to notice this and wanted to ask what was wrong.

"There you are."

The two turned their heads to see Myrcella Baratheon and Sansa Stark approaching them both.

The Dornish girl quickly broke the handhold, which she soon missed.

"Sansa, Myrcella." Roxas greeted, getting up out of his seat. "Were you looking for me?"

"Of course." Myrcella spoke with a pleasant smile. "We have heard you intend on departing from King's Landing for the time being. We wished to see you off."

"Temporarily. And I'll be back by tomorrow night."

"How will you be doing this?" Sansa asked in surprise.

"Magic." was Roxas' blunt response.

The girls all laughed at such a statement.

"Will that be your answer to everything?" Myrcella asked, amusement dancing in her eyes.

"Not everything, Myrcella." He responded to her jest.

"If only." She sighed.

"Heard your little brother left the capital with your grandfather." Roxas said.

What pleasant mood the princess bore got deflated. "The rumors are true."

"Why did Tommen leave?" Asked the Stark girl.

"Grandfather wanted to train and raise my brother, given what… displeasures he'd heard as of late."

"Is that all?"

"I believe there was more, but couldn't hear the rest." Said the princess. "All I know is that mother seemed pleased by the idea, albeit hesitant to some degree."

'At least she's concerned about her other children rather than dead focused on Joffrey.' Tyene thought with a hidden sneer.

"Well so long as he'll be well, right?" Roxas said with Myrcella nodding.

"I just wish he didn't have to leave. It's just so sudden." Admitted the Princess. "He is a kind young boy and always loves bringing me his cats whenever he saw I was upset or sad."

"Sounds like a lovely brother you have, your grace." Tyene said.

"He reminds me a bit of my youngest brother Rickon." Sansa spoke up with a fond smile. "Soon as he learned to run, always ran up to everyone with a hug to cheer us up."

"He was always the worrywart, right?" Said the blonde Nobody.

"Indeed he is."

Roxas nodded before looking back out at the sea.

He let out a sigh as he knew that he had a job to do and he would have to leave tomorrow. These next few weeks, no, months he felt were going to be extremely busy.

"Enough lollygagging." Tyene said suddenly. "Let's get outta here and do something."

"Like…"

"Getting Roxas here some food." She said, throwing an arm around him. "Hasn't eaten since prior to the Melee."

"Is that true?"

Roxas could only nod in response.

In an instant, Myrcella wrapped her arm around his left with Sansa ending up entrapping his right.

"Then let's be off." Said the Baratheon princess.

Myrcella didn't mind Sansa's action, merely thinking of her not wanting Roxas to wander off.

With the two high born girls dragging their love back into the Red Keep, Tyene followed from behind; gazing at Roxas as she yearned to be by his side. Perhaps in more ways than one.

-Next Day, Winterfell-

Walking through the hallways of his home, the Young Wolf needed a much deserved breath of fresh air from the stale environment he's been in for hours. He had been getting antsy when confined in a small room for a long while and needed to get out.

'Once more, I understand why you enjoy your strolls, father.' Robb mused to himself.

He overlooked a number of his father's acts of leisure as they seemed simple and boring, primarily the strolls. The Young Wolf started to appreciate them after being on his ass for long periods of time, doing nothing but reading and writing for the betterment of his homeland.

Day in and day out, they come and go. And as they passed on by, Robb was feeling like they were all stacking against him in some shape or form. That sooner or later, he might be overwhelmed by it all.

Some can feel symbolic while others figurative. Such as the amount of work Robb piling on his father's desk within his solar.

While appearing somewhat small, certain workloads can be deceiving with how large the apparent task may be. Moreso with what details lie across the varying sheets of paper.

Many of these documents depicted a number of things. Reports across the North were the most common on the status of the keeps and settlements, especially with the Heartless plaguing the land.

Everything had been more or less steady in taking care of the issue, yet this was sadly never ending. And in a sad way, one can see the silver lining with their presence and the Northerners were the first to spot it once Roxas pointed it out.

The amount of coin, jewels and other valuables left behind when the Heartless are slain have been collected on the daily and accounted for. They are brought into the Houses' treasury so they mayhaps be better used on a number of commodities; such as food and supplies from not just within Westeros but parts of Essos as well through White Harbor.

And there was no doubt in anyone's mind that soon enough House Forrester will receive more business than ever before. For their primary source of income will be demanded more on both their infamous wood and resin in combating against the Heartless.

In a way, trade from the North will be booming.

The respective works would be combined with the Forresters and everyone else. The demanded exports will be purchased constantly. The collective wealth will be boosted once sharing the resources, which could perhaps end the financial problems the North often faces. And there's the collective might that will come by combining the Houses into a strengthened coalition against a singular enemy which truly threatens their entire existence.

Such a thing would never have been thought possible. And the idea alone would've been diplomatically impossible, yet it's becoming a reality.

The only way this whole scenario won't get mucked up is if the Forresters won't end up like their rivals -the Whitehills- by running out of their supply of Ironwood.

After all, the House knows what they are doing and they'll be tested, now more than ever… just like Robb Stark.

For every action he took was seen as a test by many within the North. Even if the other Houses and smallfolk weren't present to witness them, word spreads quickly one way or another.

Upon rounding the corner, Robb almost collided with someone.

"Pardon me, milord."

"On your way, Osha."

The servant woman nodded as her feet shuffled across the wooden floor with chains rattling against the surface.

One would wonder upon first glance why this woman was wearing chains attached to her legs. Well there was a story behind it. It was with how Osha came into their service as it began several days ago.

Robb got up extra early that eventful day so he can get as much of his lordly duties finished up before his brothers may rise from their beds. He was quite tired by the end of this ordeal, but he felt it was well worth it at the time.

Bran and Rickon were greeted with their eldest brother's presence when they went to the dining hall for breakfast. This was typically a rarity these days ever since their father went south to Kings Landing with their sisters and Roxas. He even took his time eating the morning meal with them before dropping an exciting bit of information to them.

They were going to have a well deserved day to themselves as brothers.

It honestly would've been better if Jon was with them, but they had to make due with what they had. Theon was perhaps included as well when Rickon asked, but he was presently out to help take care of some spotted Heartless at a village located a day away.

Everything went normally well after breakfast. Robb helped his two brothers in swordplay and archery, showed off some of the magical skills he's been working on and even chased them around to get them energized as they took turns while Maester Luwin gave them their daily lessons.

When Rickon took his nap, Robb decided to take Bran out so they could ride their horses. Whereas climbing was a hesitant topic for the young wolf these days, riding was a good replacement.

It would've been just the two of them on the ride, but with the Heartless around they needed both their direwolves and a small contingent of Stark men with them for some protection.

The group rode through the wolfswood and Bran enjoyed their time. He enjoyed it too much, he caused his horse -Dancer- to divert from the intended path and got himself lost. Robb no doubt became worried and quickly went after him.

Upon finding his little brother, Robb had to reign in his anger as Bran was being held hostage by a few wildlings and a pair of Night Watch deserters. The group was squabbling amongst each other on what to do next, go back to the Wall to give Bran to Mance Rayder or go to Dorne. Yet they stopped when Robb made his presence known.

Just about all of them attacked him, in which Robb swiftly took care of the lot. Neither of them were as dangerous to him as Heartless, but they were indeed with one of them holding a knife against Bran's throat.

It was only with the intervention of the arrived Stark men did the Night's Watch traitor meet his end and Bran's life was saved.

Osha, the wildling spearwoman, was spared as she willingly surrendered at the cost of her life and servitude. Her legs were chained so she wouldn't run away all that easily and was monitored whenever possible as she worked along the castle's servants.

This wasn't the first time a wildling had to serve a Northern House so they may be spared, and Osha will not be the last.

Reaching a ledge near the archery range, Robb saw his little brother practicing his archery. Bran was improving, only little by little at a time.

Yet the acting Warden of the North noticed something about his younger brother. Call it a gut feeling, but he can tell Bran was bothered by something.

"Bran." Called out Maester Luwin. "It's time to resume the lessons."

Bran gave a brief nod before putting the bow back where it belonged. Once done, he walked over to the table where Luwin presently sat.

Looking over from his high placement, Robb saw Bran was presently working on the Houses of the Seven Kingdoms, given the sprawled out map and documents littering the table.

Once Bran sat down, Luwin tapped the map on the table with a pointing stick. Particularly off the western coast of the continent where the Ironman's Bay was located.

"What is this place?"

"The Iron Islands." Came Bran's answer.

"And?"

"Their sigil, a kraken. Their words 'We do not sow.'."

"Lords?"

"The Greyjoys."

"And their speciality?"

"Archery, sea navigation… and piracy."

From his placement from up above, Robb couldn't help but think on adding in failed rebellions, given what happened nearly a decade ago.

The maester then tapped his stick to the Stormlands, having Bran continue his lesson.

"The Baratheons and their sigil is the crowned stag now that Robert's king of Westeros. Their words 'Ours is the Fury.'."

"Good." Luwin tapped to another location on the map.

"The Westerlands are held by the Lannisters. Sigil, a lion. Words, 'A Lannister always pays his debts.'."

"No. A common saying, but not their official motto." Luwin corrected. "Now what are their words?"

"...I don't know them."

"You do know them. Think."

"...Unbowed, unbent, unbroken."

It was at this point now did Robb realize Bran was bothered by something.

Luwin sighed. "That's House Martell."

"Righteous in wrath."

"House Hornwood."

"Family, duty, honor."

"Those are Tully words- your mother's. Are we playing a game?"

"Family, duty, honor… Is that the right order?" Asked Bran.

"You know it is."

"Family comes first?"

Robb's heart clenched upon knowing where this was going.

Luwin's gaze softened, seeing Bran for the child that he was. "Your mother had to leave Winterfel to protect the family."

"How can she protect the family, if she's not with her family?"

"Your mother sat by your bed while you slept-"

"And then she left when I woke up!" Bran snapped at the maester.

Robb choked at the reminder, never liking the decision in the first place.

His mother was gone, seeking retribution. His father had gone to the capital with his sisters. And Jon was presently at the Wall. All Bran had left by his side were Rickon and Robb.

Even then, the Young Wolf was more or less gone most of the day due to his duties as acting Warden of the North. Basically leaving the two young Stark boys all by themselves, so confused as to what's happening around them.

Silence reigned for a moment before Luwin spoke again. "When you were born, I was the one who pulled you from your mother. I placed you in her arms. From that moment until the moment she dies, she will love you. Absolutely. Fiercely."

Bran said nothing at first, only gazing onwards as if processing the recently spoken words.

"Why did she leave?" He asked for the upteenth time since his mother departed Winterfell.

Luwin couldn't tell the truth to the Stark boy, but he tried to reassure him. "I still can't tell you, but she will be home soon."

"Do you know where she is now? Today?"

"...No, I don't."

"Then how can you promise me she'll be home soon?" Bran replied, finally looking at the maester.

"Sometimes I worry you're too smart for your own good."

Robb was in agreement with the old maester. If it were any other case, he would be happy for his little brother. Now, not so much.

'What should I do?' Thought the young wolf. 'What should I do to perhaps make him and Rickon happy?'

This wouldn't be the first time these questions crossed his mind and surely won't be the last.

'They might need friends their age.' Robb concluded. 'There's hardly any other child available to play with here in Winterfell and Wintertown.'

The idea of fostering did come up from time to time. His mother was somewhat against it if it meant she wouldn't see her children for gods knows how long, except for visits. But she wasn't opposed if the other way around were to occur.

Perhaps he could write some letters to some neighboring lords to see if any children around Bran and Rickon's age could come to Winterfell and be fostered here for a time. Get his little brothers some new friends to interact and play with to help lift his spirits.

This could also help out on a few other fronts. Building relations more with the next generation for one. Another pertains to perhaps finding a good match for Bran's betrothed at some point. Talia Forrester, Lyanna Mormont, and Merra Reed were the first to come to mind on such an idea.

Just like the idea of him being betrothed in the foreseeable future. He was in the market after all.

Robb was once engaged to Alys Karstark, which fell through, but they still kept their good relationship. There were even recent talks of Lord Manderly requesting to tie him to his daughter Wynafryd, his heir and future ruler of White Harbor. If not her then perhaps her younger sister Wylla. They were not so far apart in age and could be a good match. The two sisters were brave, smart and daring, just like Alys Karstark, so hopefully things may be different and better for a betrothal to fully work.

They would just need to meet and see how it'll go from there if Robb would be best suited with either Manderly girl.

He has the authority at this time -while not the full power- but Robb felt like he needed to consult in such matters. Even with Maester Luwin's assistance, the heir to Winterfell sought other counsel.

Thus he made his way to the family crypts as a means of peace, reflection and seeing if his ancestors could give him the answers he sought for.

Lighting up a torch, Robb traversed through the Crypts of Winterfell as he had a hundred times before.

Many times in his youth, he came down here to play with his siblings. He often imagined their ancestors looking upon them with some bits of joy with their innocence lighting up the dark. Like a child cheering up their grandparent after a dreary amount of time.

Now that he was older, he felt many of those stoney eyes judgmentally instead of their previous warmth. Perhaps it was because he was acting Warden of the North and he had to live up to their expectations.

Their faces were stern and strong, and some of them had done terrible things, but every one of them were Starks and Robb knew their tales. He had never feared the crypts; they were part of his home and who he was, and he had always known that one day he would lie here too.

Traversing closer to his destination, Robb thought he was imagining things in the distance. Like a light at the end of the tunnel, there was a small light on the far end of his path. And amongst the darkness, there was a voice in the air.

"-and if you were there, you'd perhaps be proud of her."

The voice… sounded familiar to Robb. It was hard to tell.

Putting that aside, who was even down here to begin with?

The heir to Winterfell put himself on guard with his hand on his sword, ready to draw it at a moment's notice. He drew closer and closer as he continued to hear the person speak to someone for some reason.

"Despite our help, your brother's still getting overloaded with-"

"Who goes there?"

The person speaking in the darkness halted his present action upon hearing the new arrival.

"I don't mean any harm. I'm just visiting."

The Stark was confused with what this intruder meant by that. Whatever questions which plagued his mind would soon be answered when he saw a surprisingly familiar face standing in front of his aunt Lyanna's grave.

"Roxas!" Robb exclaimed, eyes alight with joy at the sight of his friend.

"Hey Robb." Roxas greeted with a wide smile.

"What are you doing here?" Robb tilted his head. "Better yet how are you here? I was unaware of your intentions of traveling back up North."

"Yeah, I have my ways of getting around." Roxas answered in a vague manner.

By this point, with everything he had seen Roxas do and had introduced him to, Robb simply brushed these comments off with a shake of his head.

"Well, regardless of that, it's good to see you again my friend." Robb said, patting the blonde teen's back. "Tell me, how are my sisters doing? How is father? Is all well down in the Capital?"

"In order: they're doing well, your father is overworked and… somewhat."

"Somewhat?" Robb repeated in confusion.

Roxas let out a small sigh. "I'll… explain later. Revolves around the reason why I came here unannounced."

The way he said this was troubling to the Stark heir. But he had other questions to seek.

"And my mother? Did you see her?"

"I did." Roxas grimaced. "We had an interesting chat. Your father and I weren't happy on her sudden arrival."

"I can imagine… Do you perhaps know where she is?" Asked Robb, hoping he can at least know her present general whereabouts.

"Last I know, she is heading back here."

Robb ran a hand through his hair. "That's good, at least."

"Everything's alright up here?"

Robb replied using a word Roxas had used. "Somewhat. It's been complicated since you left with the others."

"Like what?"

"Heartless appearing more in the North. People migrating here from the South."

"Migration..." Roxas muttered. "So Baelish was telling the truth."

"Baelish?"

"The Master of Coin." Roxas clarified. "He mentioned a migration going on up to the North during the Small Council Meeting. But...The North? Isn't Winter gonna start soon?"

"The North was the first to encounter the Heartless, remember?" Robb pointed out. "Rumors have spread far and wide of our capabilities in combating these monsters so many are looking for safety up here in the North."

"Still though."

"People often don't have much of a choice if it means their safety."

Roxas could only sigh in response.

"And how are the rest of the Houses handling this?"

"Where do I even begin?" the Stark heir groused out, showing how tired he was.

Within the Stark Crypts, Robb told the Keybearer of the happenings of the rest of the Northerner Houses along with the other issues going on.

With the influx of people, many lords will need to make proper accommodations from the varying villages to give them work. While easy on paper, it's a difficult task with so many people showing up over time.

House Forrester has been working overtime to produce more Ironwood resin and Ironwood shields to help fend off their new enemies. Business has been good for them, but concerns also arose if they might end the same like House Whitehill with losing their trees too quickly.

There have also been reports of strange silver creatures that have been popping up at the most random of places. No ones been able to get a good look of them to see if they're perhaps a new variant of Heartless to cause more issues.

Soon enough, this led to the topic of the Bolton territories starting to dwindle more and more, causing more fighters to be sent there to take care of the issue. Strangely enough, it's been the more concentrated place of Heartless sightings than anywhere else.

"I find that strange."

Robb nodded. "I do too. Do you think a Nexus is hidden within their territory?"

"A strong possibility." Roxas murmured. "But why there in particular?"

Robb gave his friend a knowing look. "Come now Roxas, have you not forgotten the history of House Bolton in the North?"

"Give me some slack, I'm just getting overwhelmed with what's happening down south."

"That's not much of a good excuse. I'm dealing with an equal amount here."

"I wouldn't be too sure."

Robb laughed understandingly, patting his friend's shoulder. "It can't be that bad."

Roxas let out a whiny groan. "Seriously, Robb, you don't know how unnecessarily convoluted everything is down South. All everyone ever does is gossip or vie for some sort of power or talk about their personal problems instead of doing something about them. It's so annoying."

The Young Wolf gave him another pat on his shoulder.

"Aye, I figured my father's words to be true in the end." the Stark Heir stated. "Southern frivolities, he used to call it. It's why Northerners are not meant to go South. Everything is so needlessly complicated down there."

Roxas only grunted in agreement.

Robb could only laugh again at the state of his friend, throwing his arm around the teen's shoulder.

"Come on." Robb lightly nudged his friend forward. "You're here, away from all that maddening stupidity so take some time to recover before you return to the Capital."

Robb had sought solace and counsel in his family crypt, but never expected to see his friend again so soon. Perhaps he would help him out instead of his ancestors for the time being. And the Stark will help Roxas in turn for all the good he'd done for his family and the rest of the North.

After Roxas made his small farewell to Lyanna's resting place, the two friends talked a little as they were making their way out of the crypts.

"Before I forget, I have a gift for you and some others."

Seemingly producing a sack from out of nowhere, Roxas started pulling out a number of swords and accessories.

This soon led to Robb asking about these "gifts" and how his friend acquired them. The Keybearer gave him a brief summary of details from their creators -the Moogles- and how effective they've been in producing the weapons and armaments. Not to mention how better they seem to be from other weapons if not using the Ironwood resin.

"Could more be produced?" Asked Robb, who was fascinated by such creatures.

"It'll take time, but the Moogles will do their job."

Robb nodded as he held onto his newly acquired sword. "This will eventually help out the Huntsmen and I against our new foes."

"Huntsmen?"

"A title many Northerners have been referring to themselves as of late. Hunting and slaying the Heartless whenever possible."

"Could help differentiate from others, I suppose." Roxas then had a stray thought drift through his mind. "Oh yeah, almost forgot. How's your magic developing?"

Focusing on his hand, a thin layer of frost formed across Robb's flesh. It grew more and more before an icicle ball of ice appeared and hovered above his palm.

"It's getting there, Roxas."

His great ancestors once wielded powers and abilities thought to be myth in the present. While it did excite Robb in part, another was a tad worrisome. If it weren't for the issue with the Heartless in the North, then him wielding magic against them would've had a number of complications; especially with the few Andal septs placed in his home territory.

He wasn't a follower of Seven -like his first sister and their mother- not by a long shot.

Robb Stark was devoutly a worshipper of the Old Gods, like his Father and their forefathers before them.

But he was at the very least educated on the practices and tenants of the Light of the Seven.

And their history and doctrine shows an open aversion to magic.

Something he is now developing with every passing day.

Tossing the conjured ice away, it shattered against a nearby wall and it would eventually melt over time in the dark.

"So what happened since I've seen you last?" Asked Robb, whipping his hand of the moisture.

"Ran into Ronvid in the capital." Came the dry response from the Nobody.

"...Him again?"

"He wanted to take part of the tourney held in your father's honor as the new Hand."

Robb snorted. "And is he still doing his actions in honor of this Maid Bilberry?"

"Yeup."

"I honestly have no idea who this Bilberry person is. I've actually sent out letters to other Lords if there is such a lady."

"Really now? And any luck?" Robb shook his head in response. "Hmm, perhaps she's from the south."

"Only the gods know by this point." Wanting to change up the subject, the highborn heir voiced a statement. "So I've heard you're betrothed."

Roxas sighed. "Not by my choice and own volition."

Exiting the Crypts, the two continued on with the conversation.

"I know Joffrey is a little shit through and through but his two siblings seem the furthest thing from it." Robb commented. "If I were to wager, the crown prince sucked up all the rot his siblings were capable of producing."

"I keep hearing that and it's not that anyone is wrong about the Princess being nice and all but it's not what I want." Roxas complained.

"Roxas, I've learned that history shows that most seldom ever get what they want in this land."

"Yeah well I'm not from here in case ya forgot." Roxas pointedly stated. "I have things to do that exist outside Westeros and being a Prince, being tied down is not something I can have at this time in my life."

"I envy you. I truly do."

"You probably wouldn't if you knew what I have to deal with."

Robb hummed in agreement.

Some lighter subjects were soon conversed as the two made their way to the training yard. Both wanted to know more of the happenings of their time apart. And in this time, Roxas made the occasional greeting to passing servants as they didn't expect to see him for a long while.

Upon reaching their one destination, Roxas saw Bran spotting him. Sadness and worry was soon replaced with excitement as he leaped out of his seat and ran towards the blonde Nobody.

"Roxas! You're here!"

"Hey Bran." Roxas said cheerfully, laughing slightly at the younger Stark tackling him with a hug. "I'm glad you're alright and walking again."

"All thanks to you." Said Robb.

Maester Luwin came walking over as he too greeted the young man.

"Roxas, it is so good to see you once more." Luwin said, smiling broadly at the young man. "I must admit, your visit is certainly a surprise to us. We received no note or notification of your impending arrival.

"I have means of getting around… discreetly."

Luwin simply nodded, having long accepted the strange and fantastical means that Roxas operates under.

"Then how is everything down at the Capital?" The Maester of Winterfell asked. "Is all well with our Liege Lord and his two daughters?"

"They're doing fine and send their hellos. But with the state of the capital, it's more of the reason why I'm here unannounced."

This didn't sit well with the maester as this was spoken.

Before any of them were able to ask what he was referring to, they noticed him looking around Winterfell, looking as though he were trying to find someone.

"Where's Theon? He usually isn't far from you, Robb." Said Roxas.

"He's currently assisting on the patrol, but he should be back any time now."

Roxas nodded. "As much as I'd like to chat more out in the open, I believe it's best if we go inside."

"Why's that?" Robb asked.

"What I need to say… it'll be a while when you might need to sit down."

Hearing this, Robb nodded as they made their way into the Great Hall.

Along the way, they had run into Theon. The Greyjoy was indeed surprised to see Roxas again and wanted to warmly greet him. But seeing the expression he wore made him hold off for the time being. All he did was follow as he wondered what was going on.

Getting themselves comfortable at one of the tables, Robb asked the obvious question.

"Tell us, why have you come back here? You're making me rather worried, my friend."

Exhaling a sigh, Roxas informed them of the events which recently occurred back in the Capital. Events that'll shake Westeros from it's foundation with a war with an old enemy.

-Tower of the Hand; the Red Keep-

The brewing, figurative storm around the capital made things feel quite suffocating now. Not because of the downpour of troubles slowly flooding the land, but also the nervousness and anxiety from it all.

"May the Others and the Gods take you, Vanitas." Ned cursed under his breath.

With his return, Vanitas brought chaos upon the realm once again.

Upon his debut at the Tourney of Harrenhal, he focused his attention there. When Robert's Rebellion came underway and the duration of it, it was primarily focused between the Neck, the borders of Dorne and parts of the surrounding waters. This time, however, it'll slowly spread out and reach all corners of Westeros.

And what he learned in this very office was quite troubling with how the other Worlds are in dire trouble because of Organization XIII seeking the χ-blade and the means to obtain it. Either gathering the necessary Guardians of Light to reenact the Keyblade War against this Xehanort and his forces or rounding up the Seven Princesses of Heart. A means of obtaining Kingdom Hearts, a godly primordial power which essentially controls all life and existence as they knew it.

If these details were released, there would no doubt be civil unrest on the highest order.

It made him truly worried for the coming days, adding more troubles on top of his present ones.

Behind his desk, Ned was eying the very weapon which sought to kill his son and harmed his wife. Flicking his thumb across the Valyrian blade, he felt the small sting on his flesh as he drew his own blood.

Bringing the thumb to his lips, he sucked on it slightly as he placed the catspaw dagger down onto the open pages of the lineage book. Beside it was a list of names.

The dagger, Bran's fall, the death of Jon Arryn and Robert's bastards. All of them were linked somehow, but the truth was as clouded now as when he'd started.

Gendry, the armorer's apprentice, was the king's child as are the many people on the list Jon Arryn and Stannis Baratheon made. A list recorded in just King's Landing alone, due to there possibly being others spread throughout the rest of Westeros.

Robert had openly acknowledged one of his bastards, a boy of Bran's age whose mother was a highborn from House Florent. The young lad -Edric Stone- was being fostered by Renly's castelan at Storm's End.

Ned does remember Robert's first child quite well, a daughter born in the Vale when Robert was being fostered at the Eyrie. Mya Stone was a sweet little girl and Robert greatly doted on her. He used to make daily visits to play with her, long after he had lost interest in Mya's mother. Ned himself was often dragged along for company, whether he willed it or not. And during those visits, she even referred to him as "uncle Ned" with her being confused when Robert referred to him as brother at the time.

If memory serves, she's still living in the Vale. Her position there is being a guide on the treacherous rocky climb of the Giant's Lance to and from the Eyrie with a train of mules. She even helps transport foodstuff on occasions through the same route.

In the end, it hardly mattered if Robert had a single bastard or a platoon's worth. Law and custom gave them few rights. And neither of the baseborn children could threaten Robert's trueborn children that easily.

Unless Robert decided to repeat the actions of Aegon the Unworthy and legitimize them all…

A knock came upon his door before it opened to reveal Jory.

"Lord Varys requests to speak with you."

Ned blinked when this graced his ears. With a nod, he spoke. "Send him in."

Jory complied, soon letting the Master of Whispers into the Hand's solar before closing the door behind him.

"Lord Stark." Varys greeted politely before seeing many documents sprawled about on the Hand's desk. "Quite busy I see."

"With recent troubles, I doubt I'll get a proper rest for a while."

With an understanding nod, Varys began speaking to Ned all the while walking around securing all the windows.

"I have been meaning to ask, but how is your son, my Lord?" The Eunuch inquired politely.

"Bran? He's doing fine. Even with his healed injuries, he occasionally feels them."

The Spider nodded once again whilst walking around the table, carefully inspecting the room and it's surroundings.

"And is his mind sound?"

Ned narrowed his eyes slightly at the questioning. "So the letters say."

"A blessing then. I suffered an early experience myself around your son's age and feel the occasional itch ever since. Not a pleasant one, but a reminder. For some doors close forever… others open in the most unexpected places. May I?" Varys gestured to the chair and Ned nodded slowly.

When the spymaster rested, the Hand spoke. "I heard the stories people said about you, but never pried. It wasn't my place and the nature of the subject is not something one talks about openly. But I am genuinely sorry for what happened to you."

Varys was clearly pleased to hear this, having met another person who didn't tease or ridicule him about the loss of his genitals.

"I can tell you aren't here for a simple conversation." Ned held an expectant gaze with Varys sighing aloud.

"Sadly so… if the wrong ears heard what I'm about to tell you, off comes my head. And who would mourn poor Varys then? Roxas, perhaps, but he is the only one who openly would. North, South, East or West, they sing no songs for spiders." Lamented the Spymaster. "But there are things you must know."

Ned straightened up while leaning in to listen closely. With Varys' expression and tone, it was quite serious with the utmost importance.

"You are the King's hand and the King is a fool… your friend, I know, but a fool… and doomed unless you save him."

Ned remained silent, digesting this bit of conversation.

Doomed, he says? With Vanitas' return, many people here in Westeros -let alone Kings Landing- are doomed.

Yet it seemed the subject Varys just brought him into was far older than the recent one.

Ned met his eyes. "I won't deny the fact Robert is a shadow of his former self ever since the Rebellion; more so with the loss of my sister who was his bride-to-be. There is no doubt in my mind he will die by one of his vices. That is sadly certain. But I've been in the capital for a month. Why have you waited so long to tell me this?"

"I wanted to scout you so I may perhaps trust you." Varys freely admitted. "In case you are unaware of this city, Lord Stark, but trust is a commodity seldom found here."

Ned grimaced to himself, knowing the Spymaster's words to be true.

"And what of Roxas? Or even Cloud?" Ned brought up. "I figure in terms of trust, those two would have been at the top of your list."

Varys shook his head. "Even if Strife is quite the paragon, he is still a sellsword. Selling his allegiance for the highest bidder for his particular set of skills."

Ned snorted. "I doubt that."

"We shall see, my Lord. As for Roxas, I do trust him. He puts the common people above himself. He doesn't seek power and what influence he obtains, it's used quite well." Varys stated, tone tinged with approval.

"Yet…"

"He isn't you. And perhaps I do not wish to place burdens upon him considering how much he already undoubtedly has." Varys pointed out. "My position doesn't grant me the leisure to trust others so blindly. Especially in this city where treachery and deception is nearly everywhere."

"...So why do you trust me now?"

"Both Littlefinger and the Queen are not the only ones who have been watching you closely." Said Varys, causing the Stark to remember his past conversation with Baelish. "There are few men of honor in the capital. You are one of them. I would like to believe I am another, strange as that may seem."

"What sort of doom does the king face?" Ned asked wearily.

"The same sort that befell Jon Arryn." The Spider then explained to the Hand. "The tears of Lys, they call it. A rare and costly thing, as clear and tasteless as water. It leaves no trace."

Ned's jaw tightened, knowing quite well about this poison; both from his lessons in his youth and his reminder upon chatting with Oberyn Martell.

Not only was it perhaps one of the most expensive poisons there is in this world, but is also quite time consuming in creating a single batch. It is indeed clear, tasteless, odourless and leaves no trace. When dissolved in liquids and swallowed, the poison eats away at the stomach and bowels of the victim, making it appear as if the victim died due to failing or diseased organs.

Ned stood from his seat and took slow steps towards the balcony. "Who gave it to him?" Came the calm inquiry.

"Someone close, no doubt. But which one? There were many. Lord Arryn was a kind and trusting man. One such person was a young man… who owed everything to his lord."

Ned turned to Varys, some measure of confusion expressed on his face. "His squire, Ser Hugh?"

It seemed convenient that he should die around the time he started combing around for answers. Obviously, someone was trying to get rid of loose ends.

He remembered what he learned back in the joust of Gregor killing him. Hearing the specific observation Cloud stated on how the deed was enacted.

Perhaps Gregor was talked into killing Ser Hugh for such a thing. It wouldn't have been hard, due to his lust for death and violence. But who would have led the late Mountain to do this?

Yet this got him to think of other questions…

One as such was how this poison was procured. Either someone purchased it or had stolen it. The latter could be likely if one had prior knowledge of where the poison was kept at the time, like in Pycelle's office. Ned will no doubt ask him about that soon enough for confirmation. But if it were purchased, then it had to be someone who could afford it.

"Pity what happened to him, just when his life seemed to be going so nicely."

Varys' comment momentarily brought him out of his thought process before bringing up one of his own.

"If Ser Hugh poisoned him, it might've been without his knowledge." Ned murmured, making Varys tilt his head at that.

"Oh? And what makes you say that?"

"Cloud… had some words with him."

The Spider chuckled a bit, having a good idea on how that turned out.

"Like you said, Ser Hugh owed everything to Jon. In his own words, Hugh was going to be knighted by the very man he faithfully served. Yet his death robbed him of the chance, only letting Robert do the deed in his place. I can only imagine how hollow Hugh felt, despite being knighted by the king."

"True."

"...This mayhaps be a theory, but Hugh's death was a misdirection."

The corners of Varys' lips curled slightly, which Ned was quick to notice. From what the Stark could guess, the Spider had come to that conclusion as well beforehand.

Ned could demand his desired answers from the spymaster, but the Warden of the North guessed he might not budge or do it slowly as if he wanted him to learn something on his own.

And Ned would be right. For if Varys had to just outright say it without learning a number of things, then the Stark mayhaps be led astray and result in becoming a fool. More so if he didn't bring everything together and present it to Robert, thus causing quite the backlash.

"I've also learned my good-sister never once loved Jon Arryn." Ned said sadly. "Yet she suddenly acted differently around the time of his sudden illness. After hearing this particular bit of information, I wonder if there might be a connection to this or not."

This got more of a smile out of Varys, getting the Hand to know he was starting to get on the right route to discovery. Unfortunately, this still left the Northerner with more questions than answers.

Soon after, the Stark decided to aim towards the heart of this investigation.

"Jon was a man of peace. He was Hand for seventeen years, seventeen good long years. Why kill him? That is what I don't exactly get." The Quiet Wolf asked in frustration and sadness.

This boggled Ned quite often whenever he jumped back into this investigation.

Varys met his eyes and uttered his next words slowly, punctuating each word. "He started asking questions. The kind where certain people don't want the answers drawn out into the light and going through any length to ensure they stay in the dark."

Ned's eyes gazed upon the valyrian catspaw dagger on his desk, which had been nearly used to snuff out Bran's life. After that, he unconsciously brought a hand to where he kept the Wayfinder on his person and thought back to the unique pasts of both Ventus and Roxas respectively.

And lastly…

"Promise me, Ned… Promise me…"

His eyes were closed as those words echoed in his head, hand brought up to his face.

He knew all too well what certain secrets could do if revealed to everyone.

-Elsewhere in the Red Keep-

In her personal opinion, dogs were better than cats by this point.

Same can be said of wolves being better than lions, given how much interaction she's had with both groups.

Arya had grown up with dogs throughout her life, which can be loyal to a fault if treated right and fairly. And ever since a literal pack of direwolves joined her family, she had truly aligned with them.

One can say her wolf's blood made this happen and she wouldn't argue with the fact.

Cats, however, were a different story.

She'd never seen or came close to any feline in her whole life. The only thing remotely close to cats she came across were in her books and studies with written and drawn depictions of them so she may know what they were.

In the North, they were practically nonexistent. The Red Keep -however- was full of cats, both figurative and literal.

In the figurative sense, the Lannisters more or less hold possession of the royal keep ever since the end of Robert's Rebellion. More often than not, there were more lions roaming the halls and rooms than stags.

In the literal sense, cats come and go into the grounds. Either as strays from the city outside of the keep's gates or as being one of the many pets Prince Tommen has.

Sometimes these cats were referred to as Prince Tommen's army or children, depending on the person who you speak to about it. Though by now, they'd perhaps be called "orphans" given Tommen's present whereabouts.

You can see a number of them lazing about in the sun, a number hunting for scraps or mice, quick little kittens with needle-like claws, ladies' cats all combed and trusting and so many more. Even ones which seem to be possessed by demons with how ferocious they were.

It was quite the hard process of catching cats. Her hands and arms were covered with half-healed scratches and both her knees were scabbed over when she scraped them raw in tumbles. Every hurt was a lesson, she reminded herself. For they helped her learn from her mistakes to improve herself for the future.

One by one, the young she-wolf had chased them down and caught them, proudly presenting the felines to Syrio and Cloud as proof of her properly learning from her lessons.

All except for this one.

"C'mon, I'm not going to hurt you." Arya said in the kindest voice she could muster up.

The cat watched her come from the edge of the corridor. It's eyes were curious, wary and mischievous.

'Quiet as a shadow, calm as still water.' She reminded herself of her lessons. 'Light as a feather. And quick as a snake.'

Things could've been far easier if she had Nymeria with her. But in doing so would defeat the purposes of this continued test of hers. Her beloved direwolf would only make things too easy for her to catch cats or perhaps complicate the task. With some reluctance, she left Nymeria back in her chambers with a decent amount of water and foodstuff until her return.

But it seemed she would've preferred having Nymeria assist her this time around. For this particular feline was the most challenging beast she'd ever come across.

By her guess, it was three feet in length with short black fur and a white stomach, face and tail tip. Oddly enough, it wore a short red cape tied around its neck, thin white gloves on its front paws and cute little leather boots on it's back legs, and a small golden crown which perfectly sat unmoving on it's head.

Arya figured this cat must've been Tommen's latest "child" and was playing dress up with the poor creature before his departure from the Red Keep with his grandfather. In part, Arya wanted to capture this cat now so she may properly take those things off of it so it could move about a whole lot better.

She'd been chasing after this cat all day long. It seemed to be mocking her. And she swore on a few instances it could be smiling at her, which seemed impossible.

When the cat took off, Arya gave chase. Pushing herself so she may be quick as a snake and swift as a deer. When almost running into people by accident, she had to be smooth as summer silk on her movements to avoid crashing into them. And when some Lannister guards sought to catch her in the past, she had to be slippery as an eel so she may not be harmed and punished.

Rushing after it, she tried to keep her awareness to her surroundings so she may know of her soon to be whereabouts. Gardens, bridges and courtyards; hallways and corridors, stairs and walls. She traversed and overcame them all with what skills she acquired since becoming the student of the three best swordsmen she'd ever learn from. But as she kept on moving, it became harder to make that happen, due to losing focus and feeling tired from constant movement.

When they had first come to King's Landing, Arya used to have bad dreams about getting lost in the castle keep and the city outside the gates. Not wanting that to happen, she nearly uses any available time she has on hand to explore it all; both by herself, with Nymeria or with a friend so she can hopefully memorize the layouts.

Father said the Red Keep was smaller than Winterfell -which was true- but in her dreams the place had been ever expanding. An endless stone maze with walls that seemed to shift and change behind her.

Sometimes she would hear the voices of her father, sister and favored mentors, who'd guide her along; but they'd always be faint and a long way off. And it was even worse while in the darkness.

Speaking of…

Light soon turned into its opposite as it surrounded her once she ran down a particular flight of stairs. Upon reaching its bottom, she had lost sight of her target as it had crept to parts unknown.

Whirling her head around, she stood in place and heavily breathed the stail, cold air of her present whereabouts. Her lungs burned alongside her legs.

Arya soon realized that her fear of becoming lost had become a reality.

Panic started to rise within her, making her cry a little as a result.

Needing to calm herself down, she slowly walked ahead and reached out. She needed something sturdy and solid to lean against so she may rest for a time. Once that was accomplished, she'll have to try and backtrack to where traversed from so she can get back to the Tower of the Hand.

At the moment, she wished she could perform a Fire or a Light spell like Roxas, Cloud, the priest from Myr and the Lightning Lord of House Dondarrion. Only then could she feel somewhat safe. Unfortunately, all she could perform was summoning Needle to her hand or side.

The young she-wolf did find something when her hand brushed against its surface. It was mysterious to her, but she didn't care.

Carefully turning around, she slowly placed her back towards it and slid down till her rump reached the floor.

With exhaustion overcoming her, she succumbed to slumber.

And from there, she dreamt…

She dreamt she was back in Winterfell with her family whole and happy. Not a real care in the world. A time before King Robert and his retinue came to her ancestral home and took her father and Roxas south.

There, she got to enjoy everything remotely possible.

Everything soon shifted into two scenarios over at the Red Ford by the Crossroads Inn.

The first was Prince Joffrey being taken by the Heartless, leaving things somewhat tragic for his family but it was somewhat of a rightful punishment -in her eyes- for what he tried to do to her and the butcher's boy.

The second was going on a more tragic fate on their end. For Joffrey was able to get away with his misdeeds. And for punishment, the direwolves belonging to the Stark girls were slain before their very eyes.

Oddly enough, things changed once more as everything seemed bigger for some reason.

Curious, the young she-wolf wandered through the space and eventually recognized it as her bedchambers. Yet something was clearly off about it.

"Hello?"

Wait… who was speaking?

"Little lass…"

Arya looked around, looking for the source.

"Little lass, you need to wake up."

She… needed to wake up?

Everything in her dream started to fade. As it did, Arya started to feel someone was gently shaking her awake.

Groggily, Arya's eyes started to adjust more in the darkness and made out a small form beside her.

"You're really not a bad lass, are ya?"

Arya's head began angling itself to a near horizontal level. Focusing her sight, she wondered if she was still dreaming.

"You alright little Lass?"

Was that cat… talking to her? The same one she's been chasing all day?

"Hey, come on, say somethin'." The cat said a bit desperately now. "Yer startin' to worry me."

"You can talk?"

Hearing the young she-wolf speak appeared to brighten the cat's mood instantly.

"And it appears you can as well." It said happily.

"This… can't be real, right?"

"Real? Well…" the cat proceeded to poke and pull at her cheek. "How's that for ya?"

The Stark girl smacked the offending hand away out of reflex. "Stop that."

The "cat" proceeded to laugh. "Well, I'm just glad you're alright Lass. You up and fell over and gave this old feline quite the fright."

Slowly rising to her feet, she leaned against the surface behind her for support. "How… How long was I out?"

"Don't know for certain, I don't have a watch on me."

"...A watch?"

The cat waved her off. "Just something that helps tell the time of day."

"What? How does it- wait, who are you?" Arya finally asked.

The Cat appeared to smile at the question, appearing cheerful. "Cait Sith's the name. Pleasure to meet ya little wolfie."

Arya gave the strange cat creature a look. "My name's not "Wolfie", it's Arya Stark."

"Okay Arya." Greeted Cait Sith. "And just so you know, you didn't have to chase after me all over the place. You could've just asked politely to chat and play."

"...I didn't even know cats could talk."

"Still, it doesn't hurt to do so."

"I'll fail."

"You will if you don't really try."

Arya shook her head. "And I wasn't playing, I was chasing after you for my lessons."

"Lessons?" Cait's head tilted inquisitively. "You had to chase down little old me for a lesson? Sounds a bit odd when ya say it like that."

Arya shook her head once again. "No, no, I've done it for numerous cats now. You were just the most recent one."

"You catch cats." Cait hummed aloud. "Sounds like a strange way to teach someone if ya ask me."

"Well my instructors told me they are fast on their feet."

Cait clapped now, laughing at her rather grumpy comment. "Nyah~ You're not wrong about that little Wolfie."

"Don't call me that." Arya said yet again. "It's just Arya."

"You sure seem like a Wolfie to me though." Cait countered.

Well he wasn't necessarily wrong in that aspect. Still… This situation was rather strange, even after everything she had seen in these last few months.

"Do you perhaps know where we are?" Asked the Stark girl. "I just don't know where we ran off."

Cait Sith hummed a little as he adopted a thinking gesture. "Well, it's dark, musky and there are bones lying around here."

"...Bones?"

"Yeah." He pointed behind her. "Like the one skull you were sleeping against."

Turning around, Arya stood in both fright and wondered at what lied before her.

It was large, for starters, and rather toothy.

She had heard the stories and she greatly wondered if they were in fact true.

If possible, she was in the very presence of the very skeleton of the infamous and highly feared Balerion the Dread.

"This…" Arya's eyes widened in astonishment upon getting a better look at what she had apparently been leaning on. "This is…!"

It had to be, right?

For a brief moment, she wondered if she could perhaps take a number of it's bones and bring them to Gendry and Moo the Moogle. Perhaps they could find some use with the dragon remains. After all, there had been dragonbone handles on various bladed weapons to even greatbows.

"-He's found one bastard already."

Arya was brought out of her thoughts when she heard the man's voice in the darkness. Whipping her head towards a possible source of it, she saw the faint glow of a torch flame.

Some part of her wanted to reach out towards it for safety. Another wanted to remain in the dark, for the one bearing the torch could perhaps be hostile.

The latter won out, causing her to duck into the dragon skeleton and curl up into a ball. And Cait Sith joined her, merely squatting down due to his size. As they did so, they both heard the mysterious man keep on speaking.

"He has the book. The rest will come."

"And when he knows the truth, what will he do?"

Blinking, Arya registered there being a second voice. One with an accent to it. Something which she was not familiar with.

"The gods alone know. The fools tried to kill his son. What's worse, they botched it." Spoke the first. "The Wolves and the Lions will be at each other's throats. We will be at war soon, my friend, whether we like it or not."

Peaking out of their hiding place, both Arya and Cait Sith saw the torch light reveal a pair of cloaked men to help cover their features. But by the light reflecting off their forms, she could tell they were fat.

"What good is war now? We're not ready. The pieces aren't set in place. If one Hand can die, why not a second?" The second man said conspiratorially.

"The Hand is not his predecessor." Countered the first, who she guessed was the torchbearer.

'Are they talking about father?' Thought Arya.

Not wanting to lose them, she slowly gave chase. She needed to know what these two men were talking about.

"Arya, wait up." Cait hissed out, running after her.

She nearly stumbled over when she felt the feline-like creature jump onto her and latch himself around her shoulders. She gave him a bug-eyed glare of annoyance before resuming her pursuit of the two strangers.

Whereas the one chamber which kept the dragon skeleton was dark, the hall beyond it was the blackest she'd ever seen.

'A water dancer sees with all their senses.' She reminded herself of Syrio's past lessons.

Even if there was a light in the darkness, she couldn't follow it in a straight line and expect nothing to happen along the way. There could be holes or crevices or other obstacles in her path which could harm her without knowing. Thus she had to be far more aware of her surroundings now that she was primarily blind in her present environment.

With this mindset set in place, she carefully moved onward. Quiet as a shadow and smooth as silk so she won't reveal her presence and hurt herself without knowing.

"There they are, to the left." Cait abruptly spoke up and she could see him pointing in said direction.

...Or she could use the cat-creature's apparent night vision and go from there, that works too.

The Stark girl nodded before bringing a finger to her lips, wanting him to be quiet until further notice.

"We need time. The princess is with child and Khal Drogo will not make his move until his son is born." Spoke the accented man. "You know how these savages are."

"It may be too late. This is no longer a game for two players." Said the torchbearer.

"It never was…"

"True, my friend, too true. More so with the new factors on the board."

"Yes, the Keys. One here, another half a world away, the other gods know where."

"Their very presence may be beneficial or damaging to the overall plans."

Arya heard nothing else from either voice. But she figured they were nodding in confirmation on whatever was being discussed.

"Stannis Baratheon and Lysa Arryn are beyond my reach now." Resumed the first man. "And the gods only know what game Littlefinger is playing. All I know is that he meddled in Tyrion's abduction, despite the words and influence the Key here had presented onto her."

"And I don't know if the dragons' Key would still fall in line or divert things more with them far from my own reach." Said the second man. "For her influence is affecting the princess. What if she ends up ruining the plans we've set up over there? Or even the other as he is truly the wild piece. We might have to delay."

"Delay, you say. Move fast, I reply. Even the finest of jugglers cannot keep a hundred balls in the air forever. Do you think me a wizard?"

"I do. And all I ask is that you do your magic a while longer."

Even after the voices faded away, she could see the torch light. She must've crept after it for miles. And when it was gone, there was no way but forward.

The passage of time was clearly unknown to the Stark girl and her feline companion. She could've walked for minutes or hours. Truly hard to tell as she was primarily focused on staying safe and finding the means to get out. Even with Cait Sith's assistance.

At the end, they were at a rocky shore. She actually recognized the place being the beach of Blackwater Bay. And looking up towards her left was the Red Keep.

A smile crept on her face. She now knew how far she was from getting back. And she knew several ways to get back in there, both the traditional and unconventional means.

Yet she soon noticed something else in the present environment: the sky…

More specifically the color of it showing it was in the twilight hours of the day.

This meant she was gone for hours!

Arya was most certainly in trouble now.

Before she attempted to move onward, she felt Cait Sith leap off her and land beside her.

"This is where we part ways, I suppose."

"Are you leaving?"

"Well, yeah." Said the talking feline. "I need to-"

"Wait, wait, can't you just stick with me?"

Cait waved her off. "I'd rather stick to obscurity for now till I know it's safe. This city gives me the creeps you know."

"It does?"

"It doesn't for you?" Cait asked in surprise.

Arya opened her mouth to object though she closed it a moment later. "Well… the smell did."

Cait shook his head. "Don't even get me started on the smell alone kid."

"But this charm helps with that." Arya pulled out her necklace from beneath her clothes to reveal the specially made Moogle charm that keeps the rank odor of King's Landing from her nose. "And the sewers have been getting better-"

"Lass, human senses are weaker than animal ones, just so you know." He stated. "Even if what you say is true, it'll take a long time for the smell to leave."

"But… where will you go then?"

Cait adopted a more cheeky disposition. "Got around this long without being spotted. Nobody's lookin' for old Cait Sith unless they have to. You just got lucky."

With a flourish of sorts, Cait Sith proceeded to dash away and seemingly disappear before Arya's very eyes into a crowd with none appearing the wiser.

She wanted to call out for him, but it was too late by this point.

The young Wolf Girl then felt a feeling of dread as she slowly turned her head to the large castle in the far end of the city.

Knowing she'd face the music, Arya quickly made her way back to the Red Keep in the best route possible. She was able to avoid the City Watch guards at the front gates to the royal keep and kept on moving. And it wasn't long before she ran into some Stark men, Harwin and Fat Tom if she remembered.

The pair were no doubt in a state of relief upon laying their eyes upon her. And not a moment after did they promptly escort her to her father's solar in the Tower in the Hand.

Upon seeing his youngest daughter, Lord Stark stood up from his seat and engulfed her into a tight hug of relief. She instantly hugged him back and when he pulled away, Arya was met by a light bop on the head, courtesy of her older sister.

"Sansa?!" Arya puffed her cheeks out, ready to retaliate when she was met with yet another hug.

"You idiot." Sansa's worry was clear as day to hear. "Where'd you go? Father and I were starting to panic when you disappeared."

"You know I had half my guard out searching for you?" Ned said in a stern, raised voice. "You promised me-"

"I didn't mean to father. I got lost and I stumbled into the dark tunnels. They said they were going to kill you."

The interruption made by his daughter made him a little curious.

"They, you say? Who did?"

"I didn't see them, but they were both fat."

He let out an exasperated sigh. "Oh, Arya."

"I'm not lying! They said you found the bastard and the Wolves and the Lions will fight. Then there was something about the Keys, the Imp and the Khal… something about the Khal."

Ned perked up at the mention of a few of these details.

Even if children have quite the imagination, what his youngest daughter is speaking of are quite the number of potential facts; facts only which he would know and had actually happened or would happen.

So how the hell did Arya conjure this up? She obviously heard something on accident.

There might be something to this.

"Where did you hear this?" He asked, tone now becoming far more serious.

"In the dungeons, I think, near the dragon skeletons."

"What were you doing in the dungeons?" Asked Sansa.

"I got lost… chasing a cat…" Arya felt a bit stupid in saying this.

Soon a raping on the chamber door interupted the conversation. Right after, Jory poked his head in.

"Pardon, my Lord. There's a Night's watchman here begging for a word. He says it's urgent."

Ned nodded to allow the man entrance into his office, revealing the man was indeed clothed in all black.

"Your name, friend?" Asked Ned.

"Yoren, if it pleases you, Lord Stark." The Night's Watchmen introduced himself before gazing at Arya. "This must be your son and daughter. She takes after your wife. But your lad has the look."

Ned released a sigh when this happened. And he didn't need to look over to see his second daughter began fuming, red-faced, and glaring daggers at the new arrival.

"I'm a girl!"

Yoren blanched slightly, clearly embarrassed. "O-Oh, pardon me, my lady."

"I'm not a lady!" Arya added, stomping her foot on the ground.

"Arya." Ned said calmly to her. Putting his focus back on the Night's Watchman, he asked a question. "Did Benjen send you?"

"No one sent me, my Lord. I'm here to find men for the Wall, see if there's any scum in the dungeons that might be fit for service." Yoren admitted plainly.

Ah yes, now he remembered this man's occupation as "Wandering Crow". Benjen talked about him the last few times he was back in Winterfell on his visits.

"Then we'll be sure to find your recruits, Yoren." Ned assured. The Starks have always supported the Wall and Night's Watch and would continue to do so.

"Thank you, my Lord. But that's not what is disturbing you now."

"...Is there a problem?"

"Your brother, Benjen… his blood runs black, makes him as much my brother as yours." Began Yoren. "It's for his sake I rode here so hard I damn near killed my horse! There are others riding too. The rest of the kingdoms -let alone this city- will know by tomorrow."

Ned felt quite the migraine arising. What other dire news did he need to hear now?!

"Know what?" The Northerner asked in curiosity.

"Best said in private, my Lord."

Looking over to his daughters, he spoke. "Go on, Arya. We'll take more later." Ned then gazed at Sansa. "Take her to her room, please."

His eldest daughter nodded as she gently escorted Arya out of the office.

When the door closed, Arya turned to Jory and asked a question. "I forgot, but how many guards does my father have here?"

"In King's Landing? Fifty."

She looked at him, almost pleadingly. "You… you wouldn't let anyone kill him, would you?"

Jory had to smile a little, thinking it was still sweet for her to worry about her father.

"No fear on that count, little lady."

Back in the Hand's office, Ned looked at Yoren expectantly as they were now alone.

"What is it then? What dire news do you have for me."

What was said next practically had Ned's heart drop to his stomach.

"It's about your wife, my Lord. She's taken the Imp."

-The Vale-

Galloping through the High Road, the company consisting of Lady Catelyn, Ser Rodrik, Bronn, Tyrion and several others were making their way closer and closer to their destination. Upon turning around a rocky hill, they see the hints of the Eyrie in the distance on top of the Giant's Lance.

It's magnificent marble towers and overall structure was shrouded in mist and clouds. Such a shame too due to many claiming the castle itself was the most beautiful out of the rest of Westeros; or so those of the Vale claim it to be. But at least it was a relatively clear day the group was able to see the structure from their present spot.

Catelyn and the rest of the company were glad they were coming here when it wasn't winter. If they did in that dreary season, the routes would be impassable; cutting off the land of the Vale from the rest of the Seven Kingdoms.

Even during Summer, it isn't easy going as they'd be going up and down and around mountain sides. Not to mention the higher altitude often knocks the breath out of a person who wasn't used to the local climate.

Traveling through the High Road, the company was greeted with the breathtaking views of soaring snow capped mountains and tree laden valleys. Waterfalls could be heard, roaring in the distance and one's voice echoed off the crevices once yelling loud enough.

It may be a dangerous route to take, yet it was a magnificent one.

Unfortunately, they couldn't exactly enjoy it as they were focused on staying alive.

While the Hill Tribes were no longer present, the Heartless occasionally showed up. Small in numbers, yet they were quite troublesome.

The fighters within the group did get more experience dealing with them throughout their journey so far. Even Tyrion was able to get a number of kills, either by sheer luck or slowly getting used to the dark creatures. But they were slowly getting tired.

To most of their company, it was a shame Marillion survived the other day. But in part, they were rather relieved that the bard had abandoned them and went back to the Crossroads Inn after their first run in with the Hill Tribe and Heartless. This was due to him no longer having his wooden harp from the attack from earlier and others guessing the strike to the head knocked some sense into him to return to relatively safer lands.

Only the gods know of the bard's fate now.

At least they didn't have to deal with his terrible singing. Or perhaps they'll miss it as it could've helped relieve some of the company's weariness.

Jokingly, Bronn thought they could've weaponized the Marillion's singing towards the Heartless as it would've disoriented them before the fighters killed them off.

Of course, during some of these confrontations; the red furred beast did appear, make its presence known and slew the Heartless with ease. And upon each time of it's arrival, it would quickly leave the area so the party may traverse onwards.

The group did wonder why the red lion creature would be following them, given it's repeated return to their aid. The first was mere coincidence, but afterwards it wasn't.

Tyrion noted it was perhaps smarter than they thought. Even stating the beast was indeed following them as he and Bronn were able to spot some hints of it while it hid in the surrounding foliage. Either from spotting it's unique red fur to the flame at the end of its tail.

If it was indeed intelligent, why was it going through so much trouble in keeping an eye out on them. It could easily go elsewhere and fend off any attacker that comes across it.

But why go out if it's a way to help protect them from the Heartless?

This was one mystery the group may never know.

Riding along the road, the company eventually came across a small contingent of armored riders adorned by the sigil of House Arryn.

"Hello there." Greeted one of the men of House Arryn. "Who might you be?"

Catelyn was the one to address their presence. "I am Lady Catelyn Stark. My company and I have urgent business with my sister, Lady Lysa."

"I see." Said the same guardsman. "You're far from home, Lady Stark."

"To whom do I speak?"

"Ser Donnel Waynwood, Knight of the Vale. Is Lady Arryn expecting your visit?"

"There was no time to send word." Replied Catelyn.

"You honestly should have, my Lady. We would have sent you an escort earlier. The High Road is not safe for a party as small as yours."

"We've learned that on our journey so far, Ser Donnel. We indeed had a bigger company, but we were attacked by clansmen nearly two days ago. We lost three men on the first attack, two from another attack from… something else. And another abandoned us soon after."

Catelyn didn't know how to address the issue with the Heartless to those having no experience, let alone interaction with them. Word would have spread throughout the kingdoms by this point of their presence, but she figured there are those who're ignorant.

But at least the point was addressed and processed by the Vale men.

"May I ask, my Lady, why is he with you?" Ser Donnel gestured towards the Imp, to whom he recognized. "I find it strange he's amongst your party."

The highborn lady sighed. "We met at the Crossroads Inn and through… circumstances, we had to come to the Eyrie to get an issue resolved."

Catelyn would've stated Tyrion was her prisoner, but after what's been going through their journey of theirs made the high born lady think otherwise.

And Catelyn was indeed telling the truth of there being an issue which needed to be resolved.

Buying the excuse, the guards all turned their horses around and escorted Catelyn and her company of men towards the Bloody Gate.

"The Eyrie. They say it's impregnable." Said Tyrion, gazing at the seat of House Arryn in the far distance.

Bronn snorted. "Give me ten good men and some climbing spikes. I'll impregnate the bitch."

The Lannister chuckled soon after. "I like you."

Their route eventually descends into a deep ravine as it narrows. Whatever troubles they might've had beforehand seemed to be long since passed as they were in safe territories now.

Well safe to most…

The high stone walls resembled battlements with a litany of Vale men standing guard and at the ready for any enemy forces. Still, this was a sign that they were nearing civilization, or as close as one could get while still very much descending out of a mountain range.

And not far away was the Bloody Gate, which had resided here since the Age of Heroes. This structure consisted of long sturdy-looking power pits ending in two high stone watchtowers standing either side of the path. Joining them is a grey stone bridge arching over an imposing gate.

As they approach, a lone deep self-assured voice seemingly booms out due to the man's voice echoing in the immediate area.

"Who would pass the Bloody Gate?"

This was the same greeting used by the commander -otherwise known as the Knight of the Gate- since time immemorial.

No matter who it is, people seeking to cross the gate must identify themselves.

"Ser Donnel Waynwood, with Lady Catelyn Stark and her companions."

Once introductions were made by the Vale knight, a man started walking from the gate and made his way towards the group in question.

He had slicked back, yet shaggy black-greying hair with a thin scruffy beard. His fishscale styled armor was primarily black and on the center of his chest lay a black leather sigil of a trout leaping over a river.

"I thought the lady looked familiar." Gruffly said the dark armored knight, presumably the Knight of the Gate. Upon some feet away from Lady Catelyn, the man warmly smiled onto her. "You are far from home, Little Cat."

In response, Catelyn hopped off her horse and embraced the man with a warm smile as well. "So are you, uncle."

This man was the famous member of House Tully and Catelyn's uncle, Brynden "Blackfish" Tully.

When she was growing up, her father hardly had time to spend time with his children. So Catelyn and her brother and sister sought their uncle who loved and cared for them dearly. In a sad way to many onlookers, Brynden was their father instead of Lord Holster Tully.

Now to some, they would question why Brynden is here in the Vale instead of Riverrun. The reason was of him wanting to serve Lord Jon Arryn and help protect his niece Lysa after the double wedding in Riverrun during the middle of Robert's Rebellion.

After some time entering Jon Arryn's service, the Blackfish didn't have anyone to really answer to as the other way around happened with many answering to Brynden himself. And after Jon Arryn was named Hand of the King after the Rebellion, Catelyn's uncle went to the Vale to eventually live his new life as the Knight at the Gate. This was due to King's Landing already having enough men to help protect the man's second niece.

Breaking the embrace, Brynden spoke to his first niece with an inquiry. "Does Lysa know of your arrival?"

"There was no time." She said. "I'll explain along the way to the Giant's Lance."

Bryden nodded as he granted his niece's company access through the Bloody Gate.

Upon giving the command to the other Vale men, the sounds of pulleys broke through the valley, which had the doorway open up soon after. Once it was wide enough, Bryden helped escort the company to travel onwards towards the Eyrie itself.

"So, Little Cat," began the Blackfish, "tell me what troubles you."

Before Catelyn complied, she asked for Tyrion to come closer so the three may converse with each other.

Brynden did question why the Imp of House Lannister was amongst her company, but the answers will be given rather soon.

Catelyn began her tale with Lysa's letter and Bran's fall. The assassin's dagger and the meeting she had at Littlefinger's brothel. And from there… the awkward encounter at the Crossroads Inn.

Suffice to say, Brynden was not happy.

"Cat… you are better than this." He chastised her. "While Winterfell is remote and the Vale is walled behind mountains… Because of your actions, Tywin Lannister will march his men to our ancestral home."

"I know my actions have not been… smart-"

"More like stupid." Interrupted Tyrion. "You've basically thrown your ancestral home, lands and people under the wagon. Ser Rodrik more or less shares my sentiments."

Brynden nodded in agreement, much to Catelyn's embarrassment.

"I would've expected this from your brother -in some fashion- but from you…"

"You don't need to remind me again." Cat spoke in exasperation now.

Brynden remained unfettered. "Then why didn't you do the right thing back at the Inn, Cat?"

"I… I honestly intended to but…"

"But?" Asked Tyrion and Brynden more or less at the same time.

"I just don't know." Catelyn admitted in frustration. "My mind and actions… They were thinking so many things, hearing whispers and I reacted poorly. Especially the decision of taking him here of all places."

Tyrion merely snorted while Brynden shook his head.

"Well your poor actions will no doubt result in many lives being hurt and slain. The Seven Kingdoms have been at peace for years, but it may be over because of what you've done."

Hearing her uncle blunty say this made her sigh in defeat as she doesn't need the reminder.

Because of her actions, good men who accompanied her and Rodrik to take Tyrion to the Eyrie have been slain by both the tribesmen and Heartless.

"Now then," Brynden began as he gazed at the Lannister imp, "what of the event of my grand nephew's attempted assassination? What say you?"

During the rest of the trek to the Giant's Lance, the three were able to talk about Tyrion's supposed crime to House Stark.

Tyrion confirmed the Valyrian dagger wasn't his at all. If he did win it from Littlefinger on the tourney held on Joffrey's last name day, it would've been in different circumstances.

The match between the Knight of Flowers and the Kingslayer was quite enjoyable. For Loras Tyrell had become one of the best jousters his House had produced in recent generations. And the Imp was indeed set into betting towards the young man if it weren't for one factor, he was against his brother.

Tyrion promised the two Tully's this, there was a flaw in Petyr's tale if one really knew the Imp. Believe him or not, he never bet against his family, more so towards his brother; despite how tempting the odds are.

In the end, the Imp never won the dagger from Baelish in the first place, but someone else did; King Robert himself.

That ended up leaving a disturbing prospect in Catelyn's mind: Robert being a suspect in wanting her boy dead.

No, that didn't seem to be the case. If this was towards the Targaryens, most certainly. But Robert would never raise a hand or hammer against Ned's children. Even him sending someone out to do this particular deed was out of the question.

If not the king, then who?

The only people who knew Robert had possession of the Valyrian catspaw dagger -at the time- were Petyr Baelish, Tyrion's siblings and father, Renly, Varys (no doubt), Sandor Clegane and the king's children.

From there the list of potential suspects started to get filtered out one by one.

The Hound would rather do the deed himself instead of hiring an assassin.

Both the Masters of Law and Whispers would never seek harming someone truly innocent. The Master of Coin, on the other hand, might if it turned a profit in his favor. Besides… Renly, Varys and Petyr were half a continent away and it would've taken too long for word to get back to either of them, hire the assassin, steal the dagger and have them go to Winterfell to complete the contract.

When it comes to his siblings, Tyrion outright stated that Jamie wouldn't be a suspect given how he was raised and trained to become a knight. For the very idea of hiring an assassin was outright beneath him. Not to mention -in Jamie's opinion- it was never the right way to do the job as he'd rather do it himself if given the task.

As for Cersei, the idea would be entertaining as she always believed in the subtle, yet equally effective approach. Yet she wouldn't have the time to pilfer the weapon, let alone having much private time with a Kingsguard member being near her for the majority of the day to do the act. For she'd rather seek out those who could do the deed for her instead.

Tyrion's father, on the other hand, would've hired an assassin. But the Head of House Lannister was back at Casterly Rock, never knowing what happened to Bran Stark at that point in time.

With Robert's children, Myrcella and Tommen would never do such a thing.

Joffrey, however… would; especially since Robert gifted him with the dagger as a nameday present.

This caused a sense of unease between the small group on this particular detail.

When Catelyn asked why, Tyrion answered what he could.

Joffrey does what he wants simply because he believes his title as crown prince and future king allows him to do whatever he wants to begin with. Tyrion's oldest nephew killed one of Tommen's pregnant cats, gutting it's belly and presenting the slain kittens in the belief it would please his father. It honestly didn't, earning quite the punishment on his son and heir.

It was perhaps even worse due to Cersei somewhat encouraging her eldest child's actions. Claiming he needed to work through his "manly" behavior and nurturing her child in the worst possible fashion; making Joffrey into a cruel person who Cersei sought to control when the time comes.

One can only imagine what went through Joffrey's mind at the time which would instigate him to go through such an act.

Regardless, the bit of detail lingered in the air. The crown prince "perhaps" hired an assassin -while on the King's Road- and had lent the man his very own Valyrian steel dagger to slay the comatose Bran Stark. If this were true, then did Joffrey know what his actions may cause? Or was he stupid enough to get away with no rammifications if this factor came to light.

But this still left other questions in Catelyn's mind… Ones of which she hoped she could get answers for in the foreseeable future.

Once they reached the valley floor, the road flattened and they made good time, passing through verdant greenwoods and sleepy little hamlets, past orchards and golden wheat fields, splashing across a dozen sunlit streams.

It was nearly nightfall when they reached the Gates of the Moon -seat of Lord Nestor- at the foot of the Giant's Lance. Far above them were the Waycastles of Stone, Snow and Sky; which people consider to be the hiking checkpoints to their destination.

They soon stopped at the Waycastle of Stone where they were greeted cordially before being escorted to the guest quarters to spend the night in.

A letter did come for Catelyn from her sister upon their arrival, requesting her immediate presence.

As much as Catelyn wanted to keep on moving, she and everyone else had grown tired from the journey so far. Most of this was them seeking to hurry to supposed safe lands so they could avoid getting attacked by the Heartless.

So come daybreak tomorrow, they will set out so they can reach the Eyrie together at a reasonable hour.

-The Wall-

"You are as hopeless as any boys I have ever trained." Ser Allister Thorne announced as they were all assembled in the yard. "Your hands were made for manure shovels, not for swords. If it were up to me, the lot of you would be set to herding swine. But last night I was told Guren is marching seven new boys up the Kingsroad."

Jon had known the day would come, but not when. Now it has arrived.

"To make room for them, I have decided to pass some of you on to the Lord Commander to do with as he will." Said the Master-at-Arms with a sneer. He then called out a number of names… or at least insults. "Toad, Stone Head, Aurochs, Lover, Pimple, Monkey, Piggy, Latrine, Ser Loon… and the Bastard."

Jon had to suppress the smile fighting to break his face as he was now rising up the ranks.

"The rest of you, wait for your turn if you'd be lucky to advance."

Pyp basically "whooped" as he was tackled from the side with Grenn. Edd chuckled as he nudged Jon with his elbow.

As much as Jon wanted to enjoy the moment, he frowned when he realized that Samwell wasn't called at all. Perhaps he was, but it was hard to tell with what Ser Allister said their "names".

When he turned to face him, Jon actually smiled when he saw Sam give a brief smile.

'He must've caught on to what Ser Allister spoke out.' Was the thought. 'I honestly didn't. Piggy was also spoken towards Rast.'

In a sad way, it's like Rast was merely picking on Samwell just so he won't be labeled as the "fat child" amongst the group.

"Be quiet, you idiots." Allister sneered as the group quieted down. "They will call you men of the Night's Watch now. But you are bigger fools than the murmur's monkey here if you believe that. Now dismissed and continue your duties for the day."

The group disbursed as Jon and his friends were able to come together and congratulate each other. More so towards Samwell as he must've been squeezed in by sheer luck alone or if Ser Allister had to make it happen on his own volition or not.

Who's to say for the time being.

"Do you think they'll keep us together?" Asked Pyp.

"I hope not. I'm sick of looking at those ears of yours, Pyp." Joked Edd.

"Then I hope you'll be as far away from Castle Black as they can."

"I hope I'm a ranger." Said Grenn.

"You and everyone else." Said Edd. "I bet you'll be a builder. I mean, what use are Rangers if the Wall falls down."

"I bet my rations that Jon'll be a ranger." Said Pyp. "He's the best sword and rider among us, and his uncle was the First Ranger before-"

"Benjen Stark is still First Ranger." Jon stressed out.

The rest might have given up all hope of his uncle's safe return, but he hadn't.

"What of you Sam? What do you guess you'll be assigned to?"

"Steward is the best spot for me, I suppose." Nervously said the former heir to House Tarley. "Hopefully towards Maester Aemon."

"Oh you would. Perhaps the easiest job here on the Wall." Said Edd as he lightly punched Sam's arm.

While others laughed, Jon hoped Sam could get that exact position.

After chatting with Samwell since his arrival, Jon knew the Reachman was not suited as a fighter. He was far suited to be a maester. Reason why he had talked to the resident maester some time ago to perhaps convince him to sway whatever decision Ser Allister and Lord Jeor had regarding Samwell.

He can do sums. He can read and write. He can be good with the ravens as well. There's a lot he could do beside fighting and it's basically wasted if he were given another position other than steward.

The Night's Watch needs every man. So why kill one to no end? Make use of him. After all, Maester Aemon won't live forever and needs a proper replacement for when he passes.

This soon led to something which bothered the Stark bastard.

Samwell could've become a maester instead of joining the Night's Watch. It just didn't make sense. Was it just about honor and reputation with Lord Randall Tarley?

Jon may never know as he won't be ever meeting Samwell's father.

It was some hours later after taking care of their chores for the day did the recruits make it back to the courtyard so they may begin their training for the day. For those selected to advance, they were a bit more energized to take part in the swordplay.

Even if Samwell has been rough with using a sword, Jon was able to help him out as best he could to work out what needed to be done. Sluggish as it's been, it was an improvement.

"Is that how you swing a sword?" Allister barked out. "God's help me if I don't see you fix your stance you shits, the rest of Westeros is doomed due to your blunders."

Jon found himself frowning at the Master-at-arms.

He was a seasoned and experienced warrior, of that he had no doubt. But his bitterness and constant belittling of the recruits wouldn't help in the long run. Yet he also knew the annoying truth of that matter being that Thorne was in the end a knight and a warrior.

And the rest of them were not.

Then, from seemingly nowhere, a pool of darkness appeared in the center of the training yard.

Jon immediately tensed up, hand going for his sword as all within the courtyard froze up.

Many within the training grounds jumped back in fright and shock at the sudden appearance of this strange ovular dome of darkness.

All had either their weapons out or moved to hide themselves from whatever may come from this dark entity.

Moments later, the darkness disbursed, revealing a lone teenage boy in clothing as black as the ones they wear standing before them all.

To many, this newcomer was a complete and utter stranger.

But to Jon Snow…

"Roxas?" The Bastard of Winterfell spoke up, in stunned disbelief at seeing his friend from Winterfell.

Pulling down his hood, Roxas turned to Jon and immediately had a smile grace his expression. "Jon. It's good to see you again."

Jon instantly walked over to him and pulled him into a hug which Roxas returned.

"What are you doing here?" Jon asked straight away.

"Have to take care of some business across Westeros, here in the North and other places." Roxas answered, taking a moment to look around where he was and all the eyes that were upon him now.

He openly cringed upon realizing where he wound up teleporting to. "Missed my mark. Was supposed to end up outside the gates, not inside."

"Missed your mark? The hell are you talking about?" Said the bastard. "You mean that… blackened thing?"

"Yup."

Jon gave him a bewildered look. "So… you're telling me you could teleport?"

Roxas nodded again.

"Since when?"

"Since always." Roxas said with a shrug. "I just… er, never really needed to use it."

Jon was now amused as he was confused, his expression scrunching up in thought as he recalled the way Roxas arrived here.

"The way you arrived here… isn't that how the Heartless-"

"I know that the whole Corridor is quite similar to how the Heartless pop up, but I can explain." Roxas quickly cut him off.

"You better. You nearly scared me to death there."

Not just the recruits but many Night's Watchmen within Castle Black were looking on the display with utter confusion with what's happening. For neither of them had ever seen such a thing in their life.

It was uneasy with how the newcomer arrived, not to mention unnatural.

For the friends of Jon, they wondered how the two knew each other. Jon didn't exactly talk much about his time prior to coming here, but they were clearly familiar and rather close.

Roxas didn't turn around when he heard a sword being drawn as it was soon pointed at his head from behind.

"You have no business here, boy." Sneered the Master-at-Arms. "Not to mention what you did… I don't know how to explain it but-"

"If it helps, I'm actually here on orders by King Robert and his Hand, Ned Stark… along with a number of ruling Houses of Westeros." Said the Keybearer, withdrawing a scroll from his coat and holding it up to Ser Allister. "Here's proof if you'd like… er… what's your name?"

"I am Ser Allister Thorne, Master-at-Arms of the Night's Watch of Castle Black."

"Right, Ser Allister. Here." Roxas held it out the scroll for the man to take.

Allister snatched it out of the boy's hand and quickly unfurled the scroll, his sneer returning in full force upon realizing the boy's statement to be true.

"If it won't be too much trouble, I'd like to talk to the Lord Commander and the local maester." Roxas said, turning to Jon who looked awkwardly between No. XIII and Thorne.

"Er… um…. This way." Jon said quietly, gesturing for Roxas to follow after him.

Roxas didn't even look back at the slightly fuming knight who glared daggers at the back of the head of the Nobody.

Making their way to Maester Aemon's quarters, Roxas spoke. "I see you've been doing well here, Jon."

Jon snorted at that comment. Doing well at the Wall is a contradictory statement if ever there was one.

"More or less, Roxas."

"Who was that jerk back in the courtyard?" No. XIII asked, thumbing behind him.

"You heard his name."

"I know, but still…"

Jon exhaled a sigh. "Someone who clearly doesn't like my father."

Roxas looked at him quizzically. "What'd Ned ever do to him?"

"It was the Rebellion." Jon answered plainly. "My father was on the side that won…"

"And Thorne was the side that lost." Roxas said in realization. "Still… doesn't explain him being an ass."

"He's like that towards everyone here. Not that I exactly blame him so we'd be ready to be proper men of the Watch."

Roxas said nothing more of that as Jon came to a stop at a doorway and knocked.

"Yes? What is it?" Spoke out a wizened voice from the other side.

Jon opened the doorway, letting both him and Roxas inside. There they saw the maester sitting by the fireplace as he was relaxing for the time being.

"Maester Aemon." Jon spoke up, the aged, blind Maester tilting his head in the teen's direction. "Someone here to see you."

"See me?" the elder fellow said in surprise. "Who would travel across the Seven Kingdoms to the edge of the world to see a frail old man."

"Someone who has some time to spare." Said a young voice that the Maester did not recognize yet he felt a strange sensation come over him.

For the briefest of moments, the Maester was transported back to an old time many decades past. Quick as this moment appeared did it pass as the Maester shook his head and cleared his throat.

"Well come in, young man." Said the fragile looking man. "Come in."

The blind man heard several footsteps come forward whilst the other indicated one had left.

It was just the two of them now.

Sitting down at the chair in front of the maester, Roxas took an inspection of him.

He was frail, old and with a thin, fleshless neck. The man looked like a well placed breeze could knock him dead. And yet, he still stood… or sat in this present moment. There were even those milky white eyes, baring his blindness. If he wasn't mistaken, Roxas felt they were actually staring right into his very being.

"May I ask who it is I am speaking to right now?"

"My name is Roxas, Maester." the young Keybearer said respectfully.

"I am Aemon." The old man said, inclining his head forward. "Begging your pardon my young lad but are you a Lord perchance?"

"No." Roxas answered straight away. "I'm a friend of Jon, the Starks and the North. And towards the King… sorta. Among others."

"Are there those you perhaps aren't friends with?" Aemon asked in amusement.

"Not sure about the Lannisters right now." Roxas found himself murmuring with the Maester laughing at the boy's answer.

"And why not them, my boy?"

"I have a… unique relationship with them."

"Being…?"

"Where to start… I'm to marry the princess of the Seven Kingdoms. I paid off the Crown's debt to them-"

"Princess Myrcella?" Aemon muttered. "Then you are indeed not a Lord. My Pri-"

"Please, please, please do not call me that." Roxas interrupted the man. "The last thing I need is that reminder."

Aemon regarded the boy for a moment.

"Ah~ I see now." He nodded his head. "You do not wish to be married to the princess. You don't want to be a prince or even perchance, King of the Seven Kingdoms."

"She's a nice girl and all. She could perhaps do better, but I don't know if I'm the right person for her." Roxas said defensively. "It just came from out of nowhere, all because Robert wanted to honor my "supposed" father."

"Father?" Aemon inquired.

"They told me his name was Ventus." Roxas revealed. "I look much like his friend back in the Rebellion. Some say a spitting image. But I never knew him or heard of him. Feels weird to be honored for something I have no knowledge of."

"You seem like a smart lad, Pri-"

The blind Maester didn't need to have sight to detect the look he had received from the boy.

"Roxas." Aemon quickly amended. "Have you not taken the time in educating yourself on these matters?"

"I've been learning everything I can so I may help the World, Maester Aemon."

Aemon paused upon hearing such a statement. "The World? Don't you mean the Realm?"

Roxas snorted derisively. "With my occupation, the threats I deal with go beyond Westeros."

"Truly." Aemon murmured, now beginning to feel something rather different towards this strange boy. "And tell me, Roxas, what exactly are these threats that have you thinking of the World."

"Creatures of that pose a far greater threat than the common bandit or sellsword." Roxas said in a dark manner. "Creatures of Darkness. And I'm not lying about that."

Aemon's expression turned grim upon hearing that.

"I remember hearing a message from the Citadel, young man. I believe they were referring to… Heartless? Is that right?"

"Yeah." Roxas nodded. "Them and another force called the Unversed. They've been attacking all of Westeros."

"The Unversed…" Aemon hummed to himself. "A name I haven't heard for some time."

"But there's also something else here." Roxas said, grimacing as he looked out towards the lone window in the room. He only saw the icy wall and the single lift that would take those inside up to the top of the wall. "Something… just as dark and it feels… old."

Aemon grunted upon hearing this. "You believe the old tales, correct?"

"In my line of work, Tales of fiction and fancy have a lot more credit to them than most." Roxas said in a foreboding tone. "Where I come from, nothing is outside the realm of possibility."

"Then you are far wiser than most, my boy." the Maester spoke with approval.

"I feel stupid half the time." Roxas admitted, garnering a laugh out of Aemon.

"Fewer would even have the audacity in admitting such faults."

"I'm not that prideful, Maester Aemon. I just don't see the point in not accepting such things. I have to take everything into consideration and go from there."

This earned a small smile from the eldest member of the Night's Watch.

"I commend you on such a trait. But tell me, why come here to meet me in particular, Roxas?" Asked Aemon.

"I heard you've got quite the reputation here, maester. I'd thought I'd meet you, get the measure of you if you would."

"Hm." Muttered Aemon. "That can't be all, can it? You're positively brimming with questions. I can recognize an excuse from leagues away."

Roxas stayed quiet for a few moments, not exactly sure how to work on this.

"Perhaps." Said the Keybearer. "I merely came here to see Jon and see how this place is before I head on out. Just never expected to be in such a state."

"Indeed, young man." Aemon spoke with a more somber tone. "The Watch has become a shadow of its former self; both of it's members and it's structures."

"Yeah… but while I'm here, I wanted to at least meet a number of people Jon is to be living with for the rest of his days. I'd rather know my friend has some form of good company."

The Maester chuckled to himself. "Ah, it warms this old heart and old bones to know comradery isn't as fleeting as it is here."

A knock soon came to the chamber door. It opened soon after to reveal a tall old man

Behind the old man was Jon who Roxas gave a small smile at seeing him again.

"Seven Hells." The old man murmured. "You really do look like him."

Roxas felt his eye twitch slightly. "So… I take it you've met Ventus before?"

"Aye." Jeor answered without hesitation. "A great fighter, possibly one of the best to have ever graced the Seven Kingdoms. And a good man, a good friend to the North. You're his spitting image."

"So I've been told." Roxas said, standing up with his arm outstretched. "Name's Roxas."

"Jeor Mormont." the man grasped Roxas's hand and gave it a firm shake. "Pleasure to meet you, lad. I've been hearing all about you these past few months. You've done a great service to the North, one that shall not be forgotten anytime soon. The North Remembers."

Jeor was an older man, with short white hair and a beard which was quite well kept. The outfit he wore was the finest leather armor and cloak perhaps signaling his rank of the Night's Watch. And the man's eyes were sharp as he gazed at the Nobody.

"What is the purpose of your visit, Prince Roxas."

No. XIII visibly cringed and winced, an exasperated sigh escaping his lips as Maester Aemon chuckled.

Jeor arched a brow up as he saw this reaction.

"I take it you are not all too comfortable with such a title."

"I don't want it." Roxas bluntly admitted. "I seriously am starting to hate Robert for betrothing me to his daughter."

"Is she not what you expected?"

"Princess Myrcella is a kind and sweet girl." Roxas answered straight away. "But I did not come to Westeros to become a prince. I got other responsibilities and being a prince will only hinder it."

"You sure about that? A number of princes in the past-"

"I'm not those "princes" in the past." Roxas quickly cut him off. "I actually have serious responsibilities where the safety of the World hinges on it. If I'm tied down at all then that prevents me from doing my job as a Keyblade wielder."

Jeor took a moment to gaze upon this strange but familiar lad that stood before him.

In many ways, what he says now mirrors what Ventus once said to the Northern Lords from before.

About his duty to being a Keyblade Wielder.

It was something that many Lords admired about the lad, his open honesty and intentions in carrying out a duty that was both given to him and in a manner he himself chose.

He wanted to help people. To protect them.

And it appears his son has inherited these traits in spades.

"Any reason why you've come here?" Jeor asked after a moment of silence. "Ser Allister told me you were given orders from the capital."

"I do. Aside from catching up with Jon, I'm here to see the state of the Wall, the Watch and a number of things before I report back to the King and the Hand."

"And what will you do from there?"

Roxas shrugged. "See if I can actually get more funding sent here for more repairs and supplies. Not to mention getting better equipment as I remember Ned telling me a number of things were… hand me downs and donations… poor ones at that; given what he heard from his brother Benjen."

Jeor gave the young man a gruff smile of appreciation.

"It's not everyday someone of your reputation goes out of their way to help those who need it." Jeor said approvingly.

"The North has been kind to me." Roxas answered sincerely. "The Forresters, the Starks, they've all helped me when I needed it. I'm just returning the favor."

"These are more than just favors, my boy."

"I know, but the Watch has been neglected for too long and needs help. From what I was told, more wildlings have been slipping through your defenses every so often and it's been harder to keep a better eye on them. Not to mention… What else is with them."

Jeor's expression turned grim. "I know little of those that are said to exist beyond the Wall. But as for the Wildlings? They have been a growing threat in recent times. They have been unified under a new King, a former Brother of the Night's Watch."

Roxas frowned a little when hearing about this detail.

From what he had read back in Winterfell's library tower, the Wildlings would occasionally have a new King-Beyond-the-Wall every generation or so. They rise up and rally the other tribes in an effort to get through the Wall. If that were to happen, a lot of issues would arise.

On a number of occasions, the Houses of the North would unite and assist the Night's Watch in taking down the Wildling Kings of the past if the issue were too dire.

"I take it you have a plan to learn more about this guy?"

"Presently, Benjen Stark is out beyond the Wall with a number of our best Rangers to investigate more on the matter. Upon his return, we will plan out more on how to quell this threat of ours. In the meantime, we best be prepared; given the reports of more Wildlings are finding their way south."

"Then you guys have everything covered for the time being. Now about my request…"

"I'll be sure to sort out what will be needed by the time you go South, Roxas." Said the Lord Commander. "It'll take years to get the main forts back in their prime along with other necessities."

"No doubt about that." Roxas grumbled. "I had asked the Master of Coin on a number of issues pertaining to the Watch and he was forced to cut costs on the budget due to Robert's… incentives. Even then that trend had been happening for some decades. But with Ned as Hand, he'll be rectifying this. And I believe I might have to get Robert to comply to make a number of these happen as soon as possible. He still tries to get in my good graces, so I might as well take advantage of the circumstance."

Jeor chuckled while Aemon merely smiled.

"Good to know." Said the Lord Commander.

When Jeor and Roxas left his chambers, Aemon appeared to adopt a look of reminiscence with a saddened smile.

"So much like myself." Muttered the aged maester. "Just as much as you, Egg."

Making his way down the stairs, the blonde Nobody was walking towards Jon when he was suddenly tackled by a white blur. The force behind it made him topple to the ground. And from there he was assaulted by something wet and slimy.

"GAH! Ghost! Get off me!" Roxas flailed beneath the growing Direwolf who continued to slobber the poor Nobody's face.

"Come now, he's missed you." Jon said, snorting at the sight as he approached them both. "Don't you boy?"

"Yeah, yeah, I missed him-ACK! EW GHOST! Ya licked my tongue!" Roxas spat out saliva quite comically with Ghost giving his face one last slobbering lick before returning to Jon's side.

"Least you don't have to deal with it every morning." Jon quipped.

"I'm not a wolf like you, Jon." Roxas deadpanned, flicking Ghost's spit off of him.

Jon laughed at his friend's plight, patting him on the shoulder. "C'mon, I have some people to introduce you to."

He led Roxas over to the main dining hall of the Night's Watch and inside he saw the four friends he had made since first coming here.

"Roxas, I'd like you to meet Edd, Sam, Grenn and Pyp." Jon said with a small smile. "Boys, this here is Roxas."

"Oh~" Samwell Tarly looked up at the blond Nobody in wonder. "So you're that new Prince fellow betrothed to the Princess."

Roxas's teeth clench dramatically with his eyes twitching rapidly.

Sam's expression fell. "I'm sorry, did I say something to offend you, my Prince."

"...I'm sorry, my prince?" Grenn said in confusion, which the others reacted in similar manners.

Jon turned to Roxas in surprise. "You didn't tell me you've been betrothed to Princess Myrcella."

"Cause I didn't want anyone to know." Roxas gritted out almost comically. "I really, really didn't want to be betrothed to anyone. Least of all a Princess."

That statement certainly surprised the group before him, not having expected such a response.

"Is she really that bad a girl?" Grenn asked, making Roxas huff and throw his arms up.

"Why does everyone keep thinking that?" he asked rhetorically. "No, she's not. Myrcella is really nice and kind but I myself do not want to be Prince of anything. I got enough problems on my plate as is with the Heartless and Unversed. Don't have time for marriage."

"That's a first if I ever heard it." Dolorous Edd spoke in his usual deadpan tone. "A boy who refuses to be a prince. What many wouldn't give to be in your position."

"None of those idiots are me." Roxas flatly stated. "They have no idea the crap I have to deal with on a daily basis."

"We've heard about it." Sam said. "Jon told us all about what's happened in the North and now we hear it's been happening to the rest of Westeros."

"Is it true?" Pyp spoke up, nervousness evident on his face. "About these Heartless creatures appearing across Westeros?"

"I'm kinda surprised you guys haven't encountered them yet." Roxas said truthfully. "Would have figured a place like the Wall would be a prime target for them."

Sam tilted his head, intrigue evident on his face. "And why is that?"

"The magic radiating off of the walls itself." Roxas bluntly said. "The North is full of it but aside from Winterfell, this place right here seems to have the strongest of it."

"You can detect magic?" Sam asked in open wonder.

Jon gazed upon his friend strangely. "I didn't know you could do that."

"It's accidental at best." Roxas admitted. "It's just… it's so raw and old and… what's another word for really old but works to convey power?"

"Primordial?" Sam suggested.

"Yeah, that." Roxas said as he pointed at the Tarly. "I wasn't as good as "sensing" things like one of my old companions from the Organization I was once a part of but after feeling the magic coming from here, realized it's best I start giving it a try and practice with it."

Jon nodded, not exactly knowing how he and even the others could contribute to such a topic.

But after hearing the peculiar details about the Wall from his friend's perspective, it mayhaps give him a new insight of his new home.

Coughing a little, Jon asked an inquiry. "So what do you plan on doing now?"

"Inspecting the Wall and the various keeps." Answered the Keybearer. "See what I can do to help. Ned also wanted to know if Benjen was around, but just learned from Lord Jeor on his present assignment."

Jon frowned a little on this reminder, but he didn't voice his bit of worry and displeasure.

While it would be good to have the present group move around together, it's perhaps better for it being of smaller numbers for the time being. It mayhaps be too much of a hassle for the time being until much later.

With some reluctance, Jon's friends left them alone for now so they may have some time catching up.

"So what happened since I've seen you last?" Asked the bastard.

"Do you want something serious or something amusingly annoying?"

Jon snorted upon hearing that. "How about both, but start with the last one."

"Ran into Ronvid in the capital."

"...Him again?"

Roxas laughed aloud. "Robb had a similar reaction."

"Robb?" Jon repeated. "You've been to Winterfell?"

No. XIII nodded with a pleasant smile. "Your brothers send their regards. They hope you're doing well and want to see you again. They miss you."

Jon smiled upon hearing this as he misses them as well.

Yet a small thought crossed his mind when he remembered something.

"Roxas, I need to tell you something."

The blond noted his friend's clear uncomfortable mood. "Being?"

"Those dreams I spoke of… They've been more frequent."

"...Really?"

"Really, really."

"Strange." Roxas murmured.

"What's more strange is Bran being in them. Like actually being in them." Jon said emphatically.

Hearing this, Roxas wondered if that were in fact true instead of some form of delusion.

'When I chatted with Bran earlier, he didn't bring this up.' Thought the Nobody. 'It might have slipped his mind, given I showed back up on a surprise visit. I'll probably ask when-'

"And there was someone else in the dreams."

The Keybearer came out of his thoughts when hearing this comment.

"Who?"

"A girl named Namine."

"Namine?" Roxas spoke in surprise.

The future Nightbrother blinked at his friend's reaction. "You know her?"

"Know her?!" The Nobody was stunned beyond belief. "H-How? When?"

"Did Bran not speak of this to you?" Jon asked, a bit surprised at this.

Roxas shook his head. "No, he just… guess he was just happy to see me. Ok, look, you said Namine was in your dreams right?"

Jon nodded.

"Did you speak with her or she with you?"

Snow mulled on this for a moment and recalled the brief few instances of seeing Bran with Namine.

"All she told me is that you two have a unique history and nothing more." Jon revealed to him. "Outside of that, she's been more of a guide and a conversationalist whenever I experience those dreams again."

"I see."

"Could you perhaps shed some light about your… relationship?"

It was going to be a complicated touchy subject, but he might have to as Jon somewhat knows her by this point.

And so he did, to a certain extent on how sensitive the details about her were. They talked about his fellow Nobody as Jon gave him a tour of Castle Black. It continued further when they used the ancient elevator to reach the top of the Wall so Roxas could inspect the defense mechanisms.

As one topic ended, others took their place with Jon learning more of the happenings down South. More so when they wound up in the dining hall where Jon's friends and future brothers of the watch.

Roxas was honestly glad to see the Stark bastard happy in his present environment. And he got to learn more about those who Jon started getting close to.

As much as he'd like to stay longer, No. XIII had some tasks to fulfill for the Realm. So he said his brief farewell and promised he would return by supper.

Walking out of Castle Black, Roxas stood out to gaze upon the near endless horizon of the North, he felt something… strange.

He looked back to the Wall and Castle Black and quickly deduced that whatever this feeling was, it wasn't coming from these two places.

Shaking his head, Roxas gazed far ahead and managed to spot the next structure built into the Wall far off in the distance.

It may be hard to spot for most normal individuals but thankfully Roxas was anything but.

Calling forth the Corridor of Darkness, he teleported himself to the front gate of the next fortification. If he was correct, he was presently at the Queensgate, judging by the map given to him by Aemon that outlined the structures all along the Wall.

As expected from what has been told to him before, this one was severely run down like many others on Wall. Jeor told him that only three of the nineteen structures were officially manned by the Night's Watch with a spare few having skeleton crews at best; them being Castle Black, Eastwatch-by-the-Sea and the Shadow Tower.

Placing his hand upon the door that would lead inside the structure, Roxas pushed it open with a loud groaning being heard from the deteriorating wooden door.

The Queensgate was quite a desolate structure. It wouldn't take much guesswork for him to realize what exactly needed to be taken care of here if more Night's Watch members were brought in.

'Gonna list this as a major renovation project.' He noted before walking around the abandoned keep. 'Still, might as well check the rest of the place out.'

He spotted a recently doused fireplace so it would be easy to assume that someone was here recently. Judging by the looks of it and how he spotted tracks leading out to where he had just entered, most likely men of the Night's Watch were here fairly recently. Something which he'll bring up to Jeor Mormont upon his return.

Roxas made quick work inspecting the place before making it to the Deep Lake, where the same results were jotted down. The only exception were the fireplaces being used as they've been out for a long time. Of course a few areas did crumble upon the simplest touches, making it a hazard.

And then, he made his way over to the Nightfort.

In an instant, Roxas became incredibly on edge with a disturbed look appearing on his face as he stood within the center of this abandoned post.

Roxas frowned to himself, feeling his hands subconsciously twitch to conjure forth his Keyblades.

Being on guard, No. XIII slowly moved about as he kept on with his present task. All the while, he thought back on what he knew about this infamous fort which had been abandoned for two hundred years.

This was once the chief seat of the Night's Watch for thousands of years as it was the largest and oldest of the order; which still stands tall despite its dreadful ruin state.

Nature occupies it now as it's been overrun by it with foliage and ice swallowing it over time. The towers are still clearly visible, rising against the icy backdrop of the Wall, but they are crumbling one after another with neglect. Trees have broken through the roof of the huge stables and some of the yards now resemble open woodland more than they do training grounds. And the Nobody could spot the buildings one can point out as the barracks, the armory, a smithing area, a brew house, a bathhouse, a library and much more.

Roxas found himself shuddering.

Something was really off about this place.

It was only with him knowing the rough basics of the history of the largest keep of the Night's Watch did he feel more uncomfortable being here now more than ever.

On the surface level, the story on this place was that two hundred years ago, the Brotherhood was starting to decline in numbers. With that happening, this place was too costly to maintain.

Queen Alysanne Targaryen was one of the few of her family to show any interest in the Wall. She showed sympathy with them, having her commission the construction of the Deep Lake Keep some miles away so the garrison could move there and never return.

But when looking deeper into this place, one can see the true dark history of this dreaded place. A story which hangs over this place more than any other.

Unspeakable acts of treachery, death and human sacrifice.

It all started roughly 8000 years ago during the time of the thirteenth lord commander of the Night's Watch. His name was stricken from the history books due to his crimes, but he was forever referred to as the Night's King.

For thirteen years, he ruled this place with an iron fist with his White Walker bride as his corpse queen. Strange sorceries were used to bind his sworn brothers to his will and not reveal the happenings of the events occurring in the Nightfort. Together, they offered sacrifices to the Others, imprisoned or killing all those who opposed them.

It was only with the combined might of the King-Beyond-the-Wall and the King of Winter at the time -Joramun and Brandon the Breaker respectively- were they able to overthrow and take down the Night's King and his White Walker allies.

Such a tale still haunts the North to this day.

Entering the keep, Roxas saw the Great Hall only had one wall kept upright. A few rats scurried on by, seeking any possible food this place may have.

Walking through the ruins, Roxas could only imagine what the Nightfort must have been in its heyday.

Stepping back outside, he felt a strong wind now blowing into the Nightfort, making some noise off of the scattered, lighter items scattered about the fort.

He looked ahead to see some of the snow on the ground get blown off slightly and beneath it was a handle.

Roxas approached this buried item without much thought and crouched down to inspect a broken sword that was beneath the snow.

He reached out to grab it when the hairs on the back of his neck stood upright.

In an instant he was back on his feet and two flashes of light around his hands appeared.

Roxas quickly got into his usual fighting stance, grasping both his Keyblades tightly as he looked around the area.

It didn't take long for the familiar swishing sound he had heard many times before which was accompanied by creatures that were in many ways his kin.

Nobodies.

All around him, a dozen or so Dusks dropped down from seemingly nowhere and they were not alone.

Several Samurais appeared soon after with Roxas tensing up and readying himself for battle.

It has been a long time since he had last fought a Nobody as himself but that didn't mean he has forgotten how to handle these lesser Nobodies.

He was more than ready to fight and he waited for them to make the first move.

And waited…

And waited…

"Huh?" Roxas muttered out, seeing that the Dusks and Samurai had yet to make any sort of movement other than the former swaying its body about as it usually did.

They didn't move to attack him or really do anything for that matter.

"What… what is this?" Roxas spoke aloud, looking about on all sides to see the lesser Nobody's having remained where they stood when they arrived.

This was honestly strange. The last time he fought their kind was back in Wallachia and haven't seen them since. But hearing the reports from Robb on their "supposed" sightings in the North were troubling.

So why now?

"What do you want?" Roxas called out to them. "What is this about?"

They didn't respond at first.

Roxas frowned. "Look, I don't know if you guys are trying to fool me but I know you can-"

It was then did he hear a litany of voices in his head. Not of his own, but of theirs.

"Our liege."

"Sire."

One by one, they knelt all around him.

Roxas jolted at this action, watching as now, more Samurai and Dusk appeared and instantly went down to their knees and bowed before him.

Roxas looked around him and after a moment of shock, slowly stood normally and his Keyblades vanished.

"You… you're all here for me?" Roxas asked in disbelief. "And not attacking me?"

A Samurai that was kneeling before him looked up at its master and nodded.

"We have sought you out my liege."

"Then what of what occurred in Wallachia?" He blurted out.

"Not us." the Samurai answered. "Those who follow a dangerous power. A power that will lead to ruin. We follow that which can return us to what we once were."

"Once were?" Roxas repeated, still thoroughly confused as to what was going on right now.

The Samurai Nobody in front of him simply nodded before resuming its kneeling posture.

No. XIII stood there in the center of the Nightfort, surrounded by kneeling and bowing Nobodies who apparently came to him for leadership. Only one thought came to mind.

"Nobody must ever see this." Roxas said to himself. "The last thing I need is to be called the Prince of Nobodies."

-Morning, The Red Keep-

Walking through a courtyard at the keep, Ned was heading for Robert's chambers when he was stopped by a royal steward.

"Lord Stark, your presence has been requested in the Small Council chamber. A meeting has been called."

"I need to see the king first- alone."

"The king is at the Small Council meeting, my Lord. He has summoned you."

For the briefest of moments, Ned was a bit surprised upon hearing this. But that seemed to be overcome by a small sense of approval.

Prior to recent times, Robert had only come to the council meetings only a handful of times throughout his entire reign. Outside of those, he went to them when it pertained to the Greyjoy Rebellion.

So now, it seems Robert will do as such again in preparation against Vanitas and his forces.

Of course, another issue wormed to the surface of his mind.

"Is it about my wife?" Ned asked the steward quite warily.

"No, my lord. I believe it concerns Daenerys Targaryen."

Ned was confused and wondered why the Targaryen princess was being brought up all of a sudden.

Upon reaching the Council chamber, he saw the others were in attendance. And seated at the center of them all was Robert with a crossed expression on his face.

Before Ned had the chance to speak, Robert's voice rumbled throughout the room.

"The whore is pregnant."

It didn't take much of a guess to who Robert was referring to and it wasn't one of the brothel girls the king often visited.

"You're speaking of murdering an innocent mother and child." Ned reminded Robert, who's anger started to rise.

"I warned you this would happen. Back in the North, I warned you what would happen with her and the Dothraki. But you didn't care to hear. Well, hear it now. I want'em dead, mother and child both! And that fool Viserys with them as well. Is that plain enough for you? I want them dead!"

"You will dishonor yourself forever if you do this." Ned gritted out.

Whatever hope the Stark had in deterring Robert was not breaking through his stubbornness.

"Honor?! I've got seven kingdoms to rule! One king, seven kingdoms! Do you think it's honor that keeps them in line? Do you think it's honor that's keeping the peace? It's fear- fear and blood!" Exclaimed Robert with his anger rising further with each passing moment.

"Then we're no better than the Mad King." Ned shouted back.

Robert hissed at the comparative comment, which just dug right under his skin. "Careful now, Ned. Careful now."

They were crossing a dangerous territory in terms of words that could not be taken back if not tread carefully.

"It is you who should be careful. You are talking about assassinating a girl. And for what? A rumor? Because the Spider heard a rumor from one of his little birds?" Asked Ned while glaring at Varys for what he felt was a betrayal of trust between them after their conversation earlier.

If he were to take a mere moment to think, Ned would've realized Varys was merely trying to save his own head in complying to do his duty to the realm.

"No rumor, my Lord. Daenerys is with child and Khal Drogo is the father." Varys replied firmly.

"Based on whose information?"

The Warden of the North wanted confirmation from a reliable source and not one of the Spider's agents.

"Ser Jorah Mormont." Varys revealed, which startled the Northerner. "He is serving as adviser to the Targaryens."

Overcoming his bit of surprise, Ned scoffed soon after. "Mormont? You bring us the whispers of a traitor half a world away and call it fact?"

"Jorah Mormont's a slaver, not a traitor. Small difference, I know, to an honorable man such as yourself." Commented the Master of Coin.

Ned couldn't calm the anger that began boiling within himself. "He broke the law, betrayed his family, and fled our land. We commit murder on the word of this man?"

"Regardless of his dishonor and your disgust for his past actions, the information provided is no less accurate. My other little birds in Essos have confirmed what Ser Jorah wrote to me just to be sure."

Robert soon jumped back in. "And if he's right? If she births a son? A Targaryen at the head of a Dothraki army?! What then?"

In all honesty, Ned could only tolerate Robert for so long and this meeting was starting to push it. All he can try to do is speak reason with him now.

"If Daenerys miscarries, if she gives birth to a daughter, if the baby dies in infancy, we need not fear. But if it's a boy and lives, the Narrow Sea still lies between us. I'll fear the Dothraki the day they teach their horses to run on water."

This got the king to look at him in shock and anger. "Do nothing? That's your wise advice? Do nothing till our enemies are on our shores?" Robert looked to the other council members. "You're my council? Counsel! Speak sense to this honourable fool."

Varys was the first to speak. "I understand your misgivings, my Lord. Truly, I do. It is a terrible thing we must consider, a vile thing. Yet, we who presume to rule must sometimes do vile things for the good of the realm. Should the gods grant Daenerys a son, the realm will bleed."

Pycelle spoke next. "I bear this girl no ill will, but should the Dothraki invade, how many innocents will die? How many towns will burn? Is it not wiser, kinder even, that she should die now so that tens of thousands might live?"

To the other council members, Pycelle had a good point. And it wouldn't be the first time someone has done such a thing either. And it's true that the likelihood of the Dothraki invading is nonexistent, but if it were to happen, they would ravage and plunder and rape throughout the continent. Thousands would die as a result.

Even worse if Vanitas was to get involved.

"We should have had them both killed years ago." Renly barked haughtily.

"When you find yourself in bed with an ugly woman, best close your eyes, get it over with. Cut her throat. Be done with it." Said Baelish, adding in his own metaphor to which Varys rolled his eyes as a response.

In all honesty, the isolation in this meeting was practically killing him. Ned was being backed into a corner by all of these valid points in the present argument at hand.

Yet one shouldn't crowd around a quiet wolf and taunt it without repercussions.

Ned stood there and stared into Robert's eyes with a steely determination. "I followed you into war- twice, without doubts, without second thoughts. But I will not follow you now. The Robert I grew up with didn't tremble at the shadow of an unborn child; or it's mother."

Bottom line, Ned didn't want to kill Daenerys Targaryen.

He didn't care about the Targaryen siblings bringing along a massive Dothraki horde of fifty thousand men. In which would cost thousands of lives.

Ned just didn't believe in killing children. And in his eyes, Daenerys is still a child.

"She dies." Robert growled out.

"Then I will have no part in it." Countered Ned with a sense of finality in his voice.

This was one decision Ned wasn't going to agree with. He was still haunted by not saving Elia and her children by Gregor Clegane's hands and the Stark patriarch didn't agree with letting that action slide.

It just goes to show how much Robert hated the Targaryens.

Everything started with King Aerys basically causing Robert's parents to die all those years ago. The king wanted a Valyrian bride for his son -Rhaegar- to ensure the purity of their House. For years he searched high and low across Westeros, but there were no eligible women he considered enough of a "dragon" for his son.

So Aerys sought a bride across the Narrow Sea in Essos.

With his distrust of Tywin, Aerys commanded his cousin -Robert's father, Steffon Baratheon- to fulfill this duty. Once successful, Aerys would handsomely reward him; or so the rumors went.

Steffon ended up bringing his devoted wife along to help speed up the search. They traveled to Lys, Tyrosh and Volantis; yet they failed in finding Rhaegar his bride.

On their return voyage, their ship was caught in a storm and sank within range of Storm's End.

About a hundred people were on that vessel. The only survivor of this devastating shipwreck was a former slave Steffon purchased as a gift to Stannis. And presently, the survivor is the court jester in Stannis' court in hopes of making him smile and laugh. The attempts fail every time.

The only reason why Stannis' court jester is still around is for a number of reasons. And yet the name of said person escapes Ned to this day for some reason.

Anyways, Robert was with him in the Vale when news reached him of his parent's untimely death. It practically devastated him, which made him lock himself into his chambers for quite a while. Afterwards, he went to the nearby town and ended up bedding some commoner, which resulted in Robert fathering Mya Stone.

This was the reason why Robert and Stannis never sought to get close to Rhaegar, despite being related. They practically blamed both him and his father for their parents' death. If Aerys hadn't sent their parents to Essos, then they could've lived far longer back then.

And whatever encounters Robert had with Rhaegar, it took all of his willpower to keep up a pleasant face for appearances sake. But that was before Lyanna's abduction, which was the last straw for any civility Robert had with Rhaegar.

"You're the King's Hand, Lord Stark." Said Robert. "You'll do as I command, or I'll find me a Hand who will."

"In case you have forgotten Robert, there is a far more pressing and dangerous threat on our doorstep. Vanitas has returned, the Unversed and Heartless are running rampant across the Seven Kingdoms and you worry about a young girl across the sea?"

"The Targaryens are out there plotting to overthrow everything we built here after ousting those inbred bastards." Robert fumed.

"We have a true threat right here, right now, and yet your thoughts are consumed by two people whom we've never even seen or met." Ned argued back.

"They have to die." Robert now shouted.

"Just like Elia and her children?" Ned shouted back. "Ventus didn't approve of it, you think Roxas would as well?!"

Hearing that made Robert jolt back into his seat, gazing at the ice cold grey eyes of his best friend.

Without a second of hesitation, Ned removed his badge of authority from his chest and tossed it on the table in front of Robert. The metal dinging against the wood echoed throughout the chamber, which became eerily quiet. The action practically screamed that the Stark was willing to leave his old friend if it came down to it.

"I thought you were a better man. And Ven would be truly disappointed in you once more if he were here. Same with our late foster father." Said Ned before turning his back to Robert and walking away.

As this occurred, Robert stood up from his seat, utterly outraged and livid. "Out! Out, damn you! I'm done with you. Go! Run back to Winterfell! I'll have your head on a spike! I'll put it there myself, you fool! You think you're too good for this? Too proud and honorable? This is a war!"

The moment he walked past the Iron Throne, the Warden of the North momentarily stopped walking before resuming.

From his person, Ned thought he was imagining things, but he felt the Wayfinder grow a pleasant warmth.

In a way, Ned had a feeling Ventus greatly approved of his decision from wherever he may be.

Within his chambers at the Tower of the Hand, Ned was packing his belongings and trying to be sure he didn't leave anything behind.

The patriarch of House Stark was definitely leaving King's Landing by this point now.

He should've listened to Catelyn's plees before leaving Winterfell. He should have never agreed to come so far south of the Neck after all these years.

Ned knew there had to be some necessities before today, but at this point he just didn't care.

If Robert wants to drown himself in wine and bedding whores day in and day out when he's not cowering at a nightmare of an unborn babe, let him.

In a way, Ned couldn't wait to get back home to Winterfell, to the clean simplicity of the North. His place was back there. Where the enemies were winter, the wildlings from beyond the Wall and now the Heartless and perhaps even the Unversed.

Robert left him no choice in the matter. And sadly, he ought to thank him as it'll be good to return home after his time away.

Should the day Robert snaps out of his sense of fear of the exiled Targaryen princess and her child, he will answer the call.

But as things are, it's a fool's errand. For he knew the man, yet the king was a stranger by this point.

And as he saw it now, in some feeling in his gut, if he went through with Robert's attempt of killing both mother and child, then there will be heavy repercussions.

He remembered that Daenerys' husband is Khal Drogo. If there was an attempt on his child's life -failed or successful- then he will retaliate. He will no doubt force his army across the Narrow Sea and attack the ones who orchestrated the assassination.

Once everything was taken care of, Ned planned on traveling by sea instead of the roads. It mayhaps be quicker that way.

If he took a ship, he could stop by Dragonstone and speak to Stannis. Robert's younger brother knew the secret Jon Arryn had died for, he was certain of it.

"Is there something wrong, my Lord?"

Snapping out of his present task, he looked at the entrance of his chambers to see his captain of the guard.

"Yes, Jory. We shall be returning to Winterfell."

"I see…" Jory soon composed himself. "I shall begin making arrangements at once. We will need a fortnight to prepare everything for the journey home."

"We may not have a fortnight." Said Ned as he kept moving throughout the room. "We may not have a day."

"Is there anything I can help you with, my lord?"

"I'll go ahead with my daughters and a handful of guardsmen, it'll be safest that way. Just get them ready. Do it yourself if you have to. Don't ask anyone for help."

He knew there might be consequences of him taking his daughters back home with him as Sansa is betrothed to Joffrey.

Ned could even ask Roxas to come back with them, yet there might be some difficulty. Cloud perhaps might be easier.

Once Jory left to follow through with the order, he quickly came back in to address the former Hand.

"Lord Baelish is here for you."

As this was said, Lord Baelish strolled in with a smirk on his face; to which Ned took notice of.

"His Grace went on about you at some length after you took your leave. The word 'treason' was mentioned among other things with the others offering up ideas." Began the Master of Coin. "One of which was the idea of hiring a Faceless Man to do the deed, but they'd cost a fortune. I'd say I did the Targaryen girl a favor."

As this was spoken, Petyr was met with a Stark glare.

"Why are you here, Lord Baelish?" Asked Ned as he resumed packing.

"When do you return to Winterfell?"

"Why? Why do you care?"

Petyr's smile grew a bit more. "If you're still here come nightfall, I'll take you to see the last person Jon Arryn spoke with before falling ill. If that sort of thing still interests you."

Another person? First his servants, his squire, the blacksmith's apprentice. Who will it be this time?

"I don't have the time."

"It won't take more than an hour. But as you please. Come find me if you want to take up on the offer."

With that said, Petyr exited the room.

Slowing down on his present task, Ned thought more on this with a frown on his face.

He more or less had an idea as to where this person is located. And he wasn't going to like going there in the very slightest.

If he -the former Hand of the King- entered a brothel so soon… If such a thing got out, his credibility would be greatly hurt.

He could send out Roxas or Cloud to do so in his place like before…

But…

But… something inside him seemed to reign over him with his present mood and mindset taking center stage. Whispers arose in his mind, telling him it mayhaps be better to see this person soon instead of later himself; like when he talked to Pycelle and visited Tobho Mott's shop.

That seemed to be the better option…

Right?

"Jory."

"Yes, my Lord?"

"Round up all the men we have and station them outside the girls' chambers." Seeing Jory nod, Ned spoke a question. "Who are your best two swords?"

"Heward and Wyl."

"Find them and meet me at the stables." Was all Ned said before he took off to find Baelish.

-The Eyrie-

After a full night's rest at the Gates of the Moon, Catelyn's party resumed their journey after she said her farewell to her uncle Brynden.

As much as he'd want to join his niece, he had to return to the Bloody Gate to resume his duties there.

The trek up the Giant's Lance to the Seat of House Arryn will be a lengthy one. So it was more fortuitous for them to leave now instead of later as neither of them wanted it to be dark upon reaching the top.

For the next part of their journey, the company would need to trade out their horses for mules as they're far more suitable for what's to come. And these beasts of burden will take them as far as the Waycastle of Sky, for beyond that, the path is too steep and they'd need to ascend on foot. Or they could ride up on chains with the beer, bread and other foodstuff.

Their guide was Mya Stone, a decent beauty in her twenties with short black hair and strong blue eyes.

Upon meeting her, Catelyn couldn't help but think of Ned's bastard on the Wall, and it left her both angry and guilty. But there was nothing for it at this time.

From what Lady Stark learned alongside everyone else, Mya Stone had faithfully served the lords residing on the Giant's Lance for years. She never failed in protecting any and all travelers to and from the Eyrie. This earned her a hefty amount of respect from the Vale Houses and all of the small folk.

In a sad, ironic way -in Catelyn's perspective- she had to trust this bastard with her very life over the one she saw raised alongside her children. Rather conflicting, given her thoughts of their kind since childhood.

The pathway is a series of steps, carved by tools or by nature itself along the mountainside. There are no handrails or even markers, just a seemingly endless trudge up the hill exposed to the elements throughout.

At first, the ascent was easier than they had dared hope. The mules were sure footed and apparently tireless over the hours on this trip.

After having a momentary period of rest at the Waycastle of Stone, the party took on the second part which it's ascent seemed more treacherous. For they could feel the altitude hitting them now.

Half a dozen times, Mya Stone had to dismount and clear the path of fallen rock.

"You don't want your mule to break a leg up here." Said the Vale bastard.

Everyone in the group was forced to agree.

After passing the Waycastle of Snow, the wind became a worrisome factor in their trek. For it tried to push and pull them off the path, which made them fight against it. Not to mention the stairs were cracked and broken from centuries of freeze and thaw and the tread of countless mules.

At one point, the group had to dismount and lead the mules. The party thanked the gods that there was no ice on their path or else things may get complicated.

Unfortunately, Tyrion had faltered during the last leg of their climb and Ser Rodrik had carried him the rest of the way. It was quite humiliating for the Lannister.

On the bright side, they did not run into any Heartless, which could've popped up and slew them when they were quite vulnerable.

Upon reaching the Waycastle of Sky, the party was rather relieved as their journey was more or less over now.

Once saying their thankful farewells to Mya Stone, the group boarded the basket connected to the Eyrie to finally bring them up.

Upon entering the seat of House Arryn, Catelyn's party more or less inspected the mountain keep.

The Eyrie was a small castle by the standards of the Great Houses. It had no need of smithy or stables or kennels, but it was said its granary was as large as Winterfells. It's towers could hold five hundred men.

Strangely enough, the place seemed deserted to some degree.

Inside of the High Hall, the main meeting place of the Eyrie, is where the newly arrived group of Catelyn and Co presently stood. The undeniable austere hall was beautiful with new veined marble walls and intricate statues. The windows were thin, but high and the wall mounted torches casted shadows across the floor.

Surrounding and standing by many walls were a small sample of the Knights of the Vale as they were attentive and perhaps ready for anything.

At the far end and set on a high rise was the Weirwood Throne of the Arryns, which was priceless and ageless. It was the seat where the Kings and Queens of the Vale of old once sat to conduct their business with many entering this hall and so has the Lords and Ladies ever since Aegon's Conquest.

Yet the eyes of the new arrivals had more or less been drawn towards a spot on the floor. It was a round hole that went down by a foot or two where it soon met a carved stone panel -depicting a crescent moon- which can be opened and closed by a crank stationed at a corner in the High Hall.

This spot was the infamous Moon Door. A great punishment one can be sentenced to directly into the High Hall. Instead of a bloody execution, one would be merely pushed into the hole -once it's cranked open- and would plummet and scream towards their death 600 or so feet from the earth.

Breaking their gaze from that particular spot, they looked back at the Weirwood Throne. There sat Lady Lysa Arryn, who had a young frail boy sitting on her lap. Said child was her son, Robin Arryn, who was being breastfed by his own mother.

After what felt like forever, Lysa spoke with quite the peeved expression towards her sister. "You brought him here without permission? You pollute my home with his presence?" She said, referring to Tyrion Lannister. Lysa then looked at her son, still suckling at her nipple. "Your aunt Catelyn has done a bad thing, Robin, a very bad thing. You remember her, don't you?"

Robin stopped sucking what milk his mother could provide and gazed at his aunt. His lips glistened with liquid before he licked it up with his tongue.

The very sight had disturbed the group in general, more so for Catelyn.

'He's got to be Bran's age. I almost thought he'd be Rickon's age with his appearance.' She thought, gazing at her frail nephew. 'The boy is heir to the Eyrie and soon to be Defender of the Vale. He shouldn't be coddled anymore, let alone breastfed!'

"Isn't he beautiful? And strong too. Jon knew it. His last words were 'the seed is strong'. He wanted everyone to know what a good, strong boy his son would grow up to be." Said Catelyn's sister, who happily gazed at her only child. "Look at him, the future Lord of all the Vale."

This was the first time Bronn saw Lady Lysa Arryn. And his opinion… he was greatly weirded out by the creepy, crazy woman.

After all, why in the seven hells was she still breastfeeding her eight year old son!

Bronn still remembered hearing Tyrion's discussion with Lady Catelyn on their way to the Eyrie on him describing her sister.

"She changed," said the dwarf. "She's been a little touched," said the Stark matriarch.

Well, in reality, the Lady Arryn was fucking pushed off her rocker was more like it.

If there was one thing Bronn learned throughout his life was this: don't put your dick in crazy. Nothing good comes from it. It can apply to a number of things and Lady Arryn was one of them.

And Bronn heard the litany of rumors and talks that Jon Arryn's son and heir was too weak to sit in his father's seat.

And they'd perhaps be right, for little Robin Arryn could just die from his very own farts.

Perhaps the source of his frailty could be due to his very own mother smothering him and not strengthening him as she should have. Thus leaving a bad image onto the family.

The issue isn't exactly the sellsword's problem, but he can clearly know it is for Lady Catelyn.

Composing herself, Catelyn finally spoke. "Lysa, you wrote me about the Lannisters, warning me to-"

She was cut off by her sister's outrage. "To stay away from them! Not to bring one here!"

"Mommy? Is that the bad man?" Robin piped up as he gazed at the Imp of House Lannister. His expression was rather dimwitted as if he didn't really know better.

"He is." She confirmed while affectionately petting her son.

"He's little."

Tyrion rolled his eyes at the "astute observation".

The dwarf more or less became numb to the "small" jokes at some point years ago. He'd heard them all if he were to guess.

"He's Tyrion, the Imp of House Lannister." Spoke Lady Arryn with a raised voice. "He killed your father. He murdered the Hand of the King!"

This earned an amount of genuine confusion from the new arrivals. More so for the Lannister present.

'Okay, this is new.' Thought Tyrion. 'First I was accused of young Bran's attempted assassination. Now this? Why am I being accused by everyone for everything?! Did the gods decide to have their jollies messing with me all of a sudden?!'

Releasing a frustrated sigh, Tyrion composed himself and gave a small smile. "Oh? Did I kill him too? I've been a very busy man."

"You will watch your tongue!" Lysa snapped at him, soon sweeping her hand towards the men surrounding the High Hall. "These men are knights of the Vale. Every one of them loved Jon Arryn. Every one of them would die for me and his son and heir."

"If any harm comes to me, my brother Jamie will see that they do." Tyrion countered with a promise.

Suddenly, Robin bursted out shouting. "You can't hurt us! No one can hurt us here! Tell him, mommy! TELL HIM!"

This elevated yell from the frail heir to the Vale got the surrounding space to become deathly quiet for one reason or another.

Ser Rodrik actually cringed at the outburst. This child was just so… bratty. His behavior was utterly shameful.

The Master-at-Arms of Winterfell was honestly thinking of walking up there, smacking both mother and son and giving them a firm lecture. And Catelyn was more or less having similar thoughts.

Lysa soon reached out to her only child and tried to calm him down. "Shh shh shh, my sweet boy. He's just trying to frighten us." She pulled her son back onto her lap and kissed his head. "Lannisters are all liars. No one will hurt you, my sweet baby."

"Mommy… I want to see the bad man fly."

Lysa nodded as she narrowed her eyes at Tyrion. "Perhaps you will, my little love."

"Lysa, this is wrong. Tyrion didn't kill your husband. He couldn't and wouldn't do such a thing! And I will not have him harmed!" Catelyn protested.

Upon hearing and seeing Catelyn's action, Ser Rodrik was happy to see her finally doing the right thing and trying to defend the Lannister.

Sadly things couldn't go as one would've hoped.

Lysa ignored her sister and spoke to one of the knights of the Vale. "Ser Vardis, my sister's guest is weary. Take him down below so he can rest." Ordered Lysa with a cruel smile on her face. "In fact, introduce him to Mord."

"Yes, my Lady." Said Ser Vardis, who came up to the Lannister and escorted him out of the High Hall with another knight.

Catelyn gazed at her sister in both sadness and utter worriment. 'What has happened to you since I've seen you last?'

She had always known her to be quite emotionally unstable and easily angered, but this was something else entirely.

It has indeed been five years. And five years can indeed change a person from one's perspective.

Catelyn thought the others were wrong about their warnings towards her sister. But now she's starting to see the truth.

This woman was becoming more like a stranger by the second instead of the one she had known since a baby.

Coming here was indeed a mistake and she will definitely be paying for it. Both on her conscience and in blood.

After being escorted away, Tyrion bore quite the angry expression on his features. He will surely remember Lady Lysa's actions on this false accusation. Not just her actions but that of Lady Catelyn for her bit of retribution.

Once taken down below, he was introduced to Mord, the dimwitted turnkey (a jailer). And from there, Tyrion was harshly thrown into one of the cells the man was incharge of.

"You go sleep, dwarf man." Laughed Mord before locking the cell door once shutting it. "Sleep good, little dwarf man!"

Rising to his feet, Tyrion glared at the iron door. He began grumbling to himself, to which the Lannister couldn't help but think of his deceased cousin, Orson the Beetleslayer. For he was at least better than this retard of a guardsman.

Soon after, he then registered where he was at now: the infamous Sky Cells. A prison with three walls and the spot where the fourth one should be located was open to the view of the Vale far below.

The Arryns kept the only dungeon in the entire realm where the prisoners were welcome to escape and leave at will, which would result in their death. After all, it was six hundred feet below with nothing between but empty cold air.

And within the cell, it was rather troubling in a number of ways. For one, a previous tenant had written "Gods save me, the Blue is calling" in what looked like dried blood; indicating one can become quite mad here. Second, the wind was gently screaming. And third, the floor was slanted.

Huddling in the corner, Tyrion merely prayed to the gods that he doesn't roll in his sleep during his stay here. Because he was often the bed roller during his slumber.

So this trait… might perhaps lead to his death if he weren't careful.

-The Red Keep-

Inside the chambers of the Master of Laws, Loras Tyrell was kneeling beside Renly. They both were shirtless at this time. The reason being that the Knight of Flowers was presently shaving the Baratheon's chest.

"Lord Stark's lucky he still has a head." Commented Loras.

"Robert will rant for days, but he won't do anything. He adores the man." Renly said in a disappointed manner.

"You're jealous." Loras said pointedly.

Renly didn't voice it, but he agreed with the statement.

He was indeed jealous of Ned Stark. Not just him, but also Ventus. The only reason why was Robert considered them his brothers over his actual ones. And it was outright unfair that he won't live up to his eldest brother's standards in such a fashion. The bar was just so damn high for gods' sakes!

Renly more or less came out of his thoughts when he felt the small blade glide against his skin, removing more hair and cream off his chest.

"Are you sure this won't-?"

"Only if I slip."

"And you prefer me like this?" Renly asked unsurly.

Loras merely bit his lip in response.

It was all Renly needed to relatively receive the message that his not-so-secret lover preferred his company shaven in the right places.

Everything on his head was outright fine. Even his beard as long as it was kept at a reasonable length and cleanly cut. But every other place on the body had to be outright bare and smooth like a newborn's arse.

"I swear… If you want hairless, maybe you should find a little boy or get in touch with a Dornishman up to your standards."

"I want you." Loras spoke earnestly.

Renly just let out an exasperated sigh. His former squire was head over heels in love with him, beginning sometime after he took him in years ago.

At least he knew the Knight of Flowers was quite committed to their relationship, something which he was happy for. And thank the gods Robert was too oblivious to notice this at all or else issues would occur. Not to mention not hearing the reveal back during the jousts days ago.

"My brother thinks that anyone who hasn't been to war isn't a man. He treats me as if I'm a spoiled child." Renly complained, which he received a look in response. "Oh, and you're not? Loras Tyrel, the Knight of Flowers? How many wars have you fought in, let alone battles? Oh and how much did your father spend on that armor of yours?"

Loras diverted the questions as he kept on shaving Renly's body.

The Baratheon sighed once more. "All I ever hear from Robert and Stannis is how I'm not tough enough, how I squirm at the sight of blood."

"You did vomit when that one man's eye was knocked out in the melee."

"His eye was dangling out of the damn socket!" Renly complained, feeling sick just recalling the memory itself.

"He shouldn't have entered the melee if he didn't know how to properly fight." Loras remarked casually.

"Easy for you to say. Not everyone is such a gifted swordsman." Snapped the Master of Laws.

"It's not a gift." Loras retorted plainly. "No one gave it to me. I'm good because I work hard at it like Garlan. Every day of my life since I could hold a stick."

One can argue about such a trait. People talk about it towards a number of people. The Kingslayer, for example, was "gifted" since he was a young boy and it was refined during his years as Ser Barristan's squire. In reality, Jamie Lannister just took up the habit and kept going at it as nowadays it's the only thing he's good for.

Renly merely scoffed as he looked away. "I could work at fighting all day, every day, and still never be as good as you, Roxas and several others."

"Yes, well, I guess we'll never know."

Once Loras finished dealing with Renly's chest, he forcefully raised his arm so he could get access to his armpit.

"Everywhere?"

"Everywhere." Loras rebutted. "So how'd it end up? Will the Targaryen girl die?"

Renly has a more downtrodden expression at the mention of the Targaryens. "It needs to be done, unpleasant as it is. Robert's rather tasteless about it. Every time he talks about killing her and her brother, I swear the table rises six inches."

Loras snorted at the joke, but he wouldn't put it past the king on that actually happening.

"It's a shame he can't muster the same enthusiasm for his wife like all the whores he fucks." The Knight of the Flowers said with a shrug. "Might have actually had a better chance at being a better kingdom."

"He does have a deep, abiding lust for her family's money." Renly said with a snort. "You have to give it to the Lannisters, they may be the most pompous, ponderous cunts the gods ever suffered to walk the world, but they do have outrageous amounts of money."

"I have an outrageous amount of money." Countered Loras.

"Not as much as the Lannisters."

"But a lot more than you."

Renly sighed yet again, knowing it to be true.

In terms of financial power amongst the Westerosi Houses, the Tyrells come right behind the Lannisters. While the Lions have their gold mines and several other properties, the Golden Flowers have their fields to help grow their foodstuff. Said commodities are greatly traded throughout most -if not all- of the continent.

But given recent events, this might be challenged with a war potentially happening. Supplies will be needed, so too the necessary tools to accomplish it. One of which coming from the North, courtesy of House Forrester with their Ironwood Resin.

"Robert's threatening to take me hunting with him." Said Renly, who somewhat switched topics. "Last time we were out there for two weeks, tramping through the trees in the rain, day after day. All so he can stick his spear into something's flesh! Oh, but Robert loves his killing. And he's the king."

"Hmm… How did that ever happen"

"Because he loves his killing and he used to be good at it."

Loras looked at him conspiratorially. "Do you know who should be king?"

Renly scoffed. "Be serious."

"I am." Replied Loras. "My father could be your bank. I've never fought in a war before, but I'd fight for you."

"I'm fourth in line." Renly argued. "Technically fifth once Roxas and Myrcella marry."

Normally, this wouldn't be much of a big issue. A man marrying the princess of the royal family would place them in the line of succession. But doing so would place them further down the line.

Yet Roxas' circumstances were different, given his growing reputation as of late. And if he heard the whispers right, the Keyblade wielder has quite the mighty purse and good relations with the Iron Bank.

Who knows hunting for Heartless and Unversed could be so… rewarding…

"You forget Roxas doesn't seek the Iron Throne, let alone being a prince. It only happened due to Robert's decision." Loras reminded him. "More than anything, it's better to have him as an ally if something were to happen. Besides, where was Robert in line of royal succession before his Rebellion?" Before Renly could give an answer to that, the Tyrell knight spoke quickly. "You know as much as I do that Joffrey is a monster. And Tommen is eight."

"Who is now under the teachings of his grandfather. That would complicate things" Renly said back. "What of Stannis?"

Loras scoffed derisively. "Stannis has the personality of a lobster."

"He's still my older brother." Renly argued.

Having the personality of a "lobster" is not a valid enough reason to remove Stannis from the line of succession. If Robert were to die in an accident or from one of his vices anytime soon, the safest bet with Stannis would be having him as king regent until his heir comes of age; whether it be Joffrey, Tommen or at the very least Roxas.

All of a sudden Loras cuts Renly under his arm and the Baratheon gasps at the stinging sensation.

"What are you doing?!"

"Look at it."

"You cut me!"

Loras merely huffed. "It's just blood. We've all got it in us. Sometimes a little spills. If you become king, you're going to see a lot of this. You need to get used to it. Go on. Look."

Renly did so, gazing down his side where a small stream of blood was rolling down his flesh towards his trousers.

"People love you. They love to serve you because you're kind to them. They want to be near you." Loras stood, grabbing Renly's hand and bringing him up to stand as well. "You're willing to do what needs to be done, but you don't gloat over it. You don't love killing." The Tyrell knight gave him a curious look. "Where is it written that power is the sole province of the worst? That thrones are only made for the hated and feared. So why does a king have to be feared? Why can't they be loved? A few generations have more or less forgotten the experience of a beloved king. And to me, I believe you'll be wonderful."

Renly ran his free hand through his hair as he thought it over. "You do make a compelling argument." Loras smiled at that. "But even if I become king, who would be my queen?"

The higher standing the candidate has, the more favorable she may be across the realm. More so with said woman coming from a noble House; especially a high one.

"Princess Arianne would've been an option, but you know how that turned out."

Loras snorted at the memory and recalled it well.

Years ago, both he and Renly traveled to Dorne to conduct a number of matters in person. Outside of the normal businesses for the Crown, Renly had to meet Arianne Martell as a potential husband candidate for her and go through a proper courtship.

It would've been a good match if this were to happen. Uniting the Stormlands and Dorne while mending old wounds. Yet things never fell through.

Both Renly and Loras thought at the time that their preferences would have appeased Arrianne, given how more open and accepting the Dornish were with their sexuality. It could've spiced up their nightly activities and allowed Renly to properly have Loras as his paramour as long as he puts a baby in Arianne's belly.

Unfortunately things didn't go as planned.

When thinking about it, the reason why this didn't come to pass was due to the Martells were still angry with King Robert on how he treated the issue of the deaths of Elia Martell and her children. Not to mention him "pardoning" the Mountain of the act.

Now with Gregor Clegane dead, the option of Renly perhaps marrying Princess Arianne could happen once more. But that may still be unlikely.

"What of my sister?" Asked Loras, drawing his lover's attention. "She would be the perfect queen for you."

Renly didn't have to think all that much on the idea.

Margarey was indeed an ideal woman to have as a bride. She was beautiful, charming, sweet and intelligent. The young Rose is greatly favored by most, if not all of the Reach with her humanitarian works. And she has a large number of connections which she has been forging as of late to help strengthen her House.

"Marry her and you'll secure our father's backing for your campaign."

With a smirk, Loras slid down to his knees and undid Renly's trousers.

If one were to be outside of Renly's chambers, they would hear moans and groans before sounds of flesh meeting flesh eventually arose.

-Robert's Solar-

Strolling into her husband's office, Cersei saw him rather depressed. He was hunched over in his chair as he was nursing his present emotions with a pitcher of wine or two he had on his desk.

"I'm sorry your marriage to Ned Stark didn't work out." Cersei said with a small smirk, having her hands folded and walking around a bit. "You seemed so good together."

"I'm glad I could do something to make you happy." Muttered Robert, his mood downcast.

"Without a Hand, everything will fall to pieces." She began, standing by the chair which was placed opposite to her husband. "Especially with all the good he's done so far."

"I suppose this is where you tell me to give the job to your brother Jamie." He replied, taking a sip of his wine.

"No. He's not serious enough." His queen softly scoffed. "I'll say this for Ned Stark- he's serious enough. Was it really worth it? Losing him this way?"

"I don't know." Robert then stood and walked to the balcony to look out over the nearby gardens. "But I do know this, if the Targaryen girl convinces her horselord husband to invade and the Dothraki horde crosses the Narrow Sea… If Vanitas were to join them with their Keybearer… We won't be able to stop them."

"The Dothraki don't sail. Every child knows that. They don't have discipline. They don't have armor. They don't have siege weapons." Cersei argued back.

The king sighed. "It's a neat little trick you do, you move your lips and your father's voice comes out."

Cersei huffed a little, seemingly impressed. "Is my father wrong?"

Robert turned to look at her. "Let's say Viserys Targaryen lands with forty thousand Dothraki screamers at his back. We hole up in our castles, a wise move. Only a fool would meet the Dothraki in an open field. They leave us in our castles." He then elaborated on what'll come afterwards. "Thus they go from town to town, looting and burning, killing every man who can't hide behind a stone wall, stealing all our crops and livestock, enslaving all our women and children. Or having that Targaryen shit agreeing to let Vanitas join him, alloying that blasted Keybearer demolishing the gates with a handful of strokes and letting the Dothraki swarm in. Or worse, letting Vanitas let loose his forces from inside our very homes. How long do the people of the Seven Kingdoms stand behind their absentee King, their cowardly King hiding behind high walls? When do the people decide that Viserys Targaryen is the rightful monarch after all."

Say what you will about his intelligence. Robert always had a knack for battle and war strategy. He tried getting Joffrey into it as a means of father/son bonding and teaching but the crown prince never took any interest in it.

Cersei thought that one through as she poured herself a drink before sitting down. "We still outnumber them."

Robert then asked her. "Which is the bigger number- five or one?"

"Five."

Her quick answer didn't seem to be the right one as Robert held up a hand with all five fingers spread out. "Five…" He then held up a fist. "One. One army, a real army, united behind one leader with one purpose. Our purpose died with Vanitas and the Mad King, or so we thought at the time."

When war or a great battle happens, people often seek to choose the side that is beneficial for them.

And it's not so simple with every lord calling their banners, hoping they'd honor their allegiances or not. Some banners would choose others, perhaps causing some form of disgrace, but it doesn't entirely matter in the end with one side losing and the other winning.

So unless there was a unifying cause, then good luck having one united army for a united kingdom.

The last time this happened was the War of the Ninepenny Kings, or the 5th Blackfyre Rebellion over at the Stepstones. Every House of the Seven Kingdoms practically took part under one banner against the Blackfyres.

One would wonder if such a thing would ever repeat itself in a similar manner.

"Now we've got as many armies as there are men with gold in their purse. And everybody wants something different. Your father wants to own the world. Ned Stark wants to run away and bury his head in the snow."

"What do you want?" She asked.

Robert held up a cup of wine as his answer.

Taking a sip of it, he resumed speaking as he occasionally grumbled. "We haven't had a real fight in nine years. Back-stabbing doesn't prepare you for a fight. And that's all the realm is now: back-stabbing and scheming and arse-licking and money-grubbing. Sometimes I don't know what holds it together."

"...Our marriage."

They broke out into laughter, amused at such a silly notion.

Even though they bitterly hate each other, they were sadly having a good time… in some shape or form.

Their laughter slowly died down as they looked a tad brighter than before. And it was Robert who was the first to speak. "Ah, so here we sit, seventeen years later, holding it all together. Don't you get tired?"

"Every day." She admitted.

It honestly does get tiresome dragging herself through it all. It started out wanting to contribute to their relationship, even if there was one to begin with. Now it comes to the point she almost forgets why she's dragging herself in the first place.

At first it was just the joy of becoming queen of all of Westeros and eventually having Robert's children. She did wish the circumstances could've been different where she was the wife of another; albeit being Rhaegar like how it originally was or Ventus if Robert and the late Mountain didn't muck things up at the Siege of this very city.

"How long can hate hold a thing together?"

"Well, seventeen years is quite a long time." Cersei drawled out.

He raised his cup. "Yes, it is."

"Yes it is." Once they both drank from their respective cups, she asked a question that seemed rather odd to hear from her lips. "What was she like?"

It honestly took some effort for Robert to realize who his wife was referring to. A slow rising sense of surprise melding with his face as he spoke. "You never asked about her, not once. Why not?"

Gazing a bit downward, Cersei gave her explanation. "At first, just saying her name, even in private, felt like I was breathing life back into her. I thought if I didn't talk about her, she'd just fade away for you. When I realized that wasn't going to happen, I refused to ask out of spite. I didn't want to give you the satisfaction of thinking I cared enough to ask. And eventually it became clear that my spite didn't mean anything to you, as far as I could tell, you actually enjoyed it."

"So why now?" He said solemnly.

"What harm could Lyanna Stark's ghost do to either of us that we haven't done to each other a hundred times over?"

Often than naught, she believed if she tried to ignore the "ghost", it's haunting presence would seem insignificant; like a fly. Yes, it would be annoying as it wafts and hovers all around, but can't do any real harm.

Yet these "ghosts" can still harm others with how impactful they were onto them.

Robert leaned forward and looked her in the eyes. "You want to know the horrible truth? I can't remember what she looked like. I only know she was the one thing I ever wanted. Someone took her away from me and Seven Kingdoms couldn't fill the hole she left behind."

After some moments of silence, Cersei said an admitting detail onto him. "I felt something for you once, you know? I honestly did, despite your faults."

He looked down in response. "I know."

"Even after we lost our first boy. For quite a while, actually."

When they both learned they were having a baby, Robert was actually putting effort into their relationship. And over time, Cersei complied as well and for those months, they were quite happy together.

A number of names popped up here and there on what they could name their child. Usually it was from a deceased family member who either parent greatly admired and wanted the child to carry on their memory in some form of fashion. And it was quite annoying that they couldn't find the right one and thought of waiting for when the child was born to figure it out then.

Unfortunately they never got the chance as their firstborn son died shortly after birth due to fever.

She remembered how it went soon after. They came to take their baby boy away and Robert held her. She screamed and battled, but he held her as neither of them got to see their child ever since. Not even when visiting the crypts.

Cersei was inconsolable afterwards and Robert beat his hands bloody on the wall in hopes of venting out his utter wrath. Both were truly devastated.

After that, Cersei soon hoped they could work things out and perhaps try again and be better prepared.

Yet she never got the opportunity as Robert went back to his vices as a means of distracting himself. Everything crumbled soon after.

At that point, Cersei basically gave up on ever trying to fix things. And she thought of perhaps getting the High Septon to annul their marriage so she may find someone else who could make her happy. Yet she had to stay in the relationship, so her family will have the definite ties to the Iron Throne.

It was truly unfair.

If he was more receptive towards her back then and onwards, then things could've been different.

"It's strange…" Cersei murmured. "I had only ever loved perhaps three men in my entire life."

She would've said four, but that would've raised some questions on one of the individuals.

"Three you say?" Robert murmured.

"You at one point, yes." Cersei sounded as though she were accepting bad news. "Rhaegar of course. Who didn't love Rhaegar Targaryen?"

Robert had his eyes down at the table, murder raging in his eyes at the mere mention of the man he slew those many years ago.

"And the other?"

"Ventus."

The King blinked in surprise, gazing up at his wife.

"Ventus?" Robert repeated, unsure if he heard her correctly.

"Is it so hard to believe such a thing?"

"Yes." Robert blurted out, garnering a snort of out the Queen. "Why? How?"

The Queen of the Seven Kingdoms leaned back in her chair as she contemplated on the answer whilst recalling the moments she had with him those many years ago.

"He was genuine, kind and… sincere." Cersei spoke in a far off voice now. "Whenever I recall meeting him at Harrenhal, he was the first man to have truly turned my gaze away from the Last Dragon and solely focused on him. He has such kind eyes and a beautiful smile. And he treated me as more than just the Light of the West. By the God's, I wished to have made him mine had I had the chance. I knew that even my own father wouldn't even disapprove of him. Our line would have had legitimate magic born directly into it through Ventus."

Robert now had a far off look of his own, a fond smile of times past in his mind.

"Aye… Ventus was a good lad. And an even better friend." His face became crestfallen a moment later, a shuddering breath escaping him. "And I… the last time I saw him, he was furious with me. Angry and I never saw him again."

"You miss him?"

"By the old Gods and the new, I do." Robert's voice was strangled now. "I think about him. Every. Single. Day. Ned had lost so much but I did too, you know? My parents. My love. One of my closest friends I have ever made. And now it seems I've lost Ned too."

Cersei found a surprising feeling of sympathy well up within her towards the Baratheon King.

She had lost her mother before and a love she genuinely wanted but Robert carried a greater deal of grief then he let on.

"I… have failed at so many things in my life." Robert spoke in a far more morose manner. "Being a son, a brother, a husband, a King, a father… a friend. I've made many "friends" in my lifetime but the ones I care for more than anyone else are leaving me. One by one. And I can do nothing but stand back and watch it transpire."

In her many years of being with Robert, she had seen him be a raging drunk, a lustful drunk and once or twice a blubbering weeping mess of a drunk.

But here was a broken and tired man who had long since given up on life.

It may be difficult to see for most due to the man's boisterous and stormy personality yet before Cersei, she finally saw the man beneath all the bluster.

A man who just wanted to be with the people he found companionship with.

"Was it ever possible for us? Was there ever a time, ever… a moment?" Asked Cersei, voice barely above a whisper.

Robert gazed up at her, expression unreadable now. "...No… Does that make you feel better or worse?"

Taking a swig of her wine, Cersei met Robert's eyes and gave her answer. "It doesn't make me feel anything."

-Baelish's Brothel-

In a way, he honestly wished Oberyn was here. It would've made things better in a way with an excuse of wanting to converse with one another despite the environment.

Ned unfortunately had no such opportunity.

Like before, it was awkward being here of all places.

The Stark greatly hoped this meeting would be a simple one. Get in and out in a manner of minutes with hardly a fuss at all.

And apparently that was indeed the case as he is presently speaking to a whore with a babe within her arms.

"I named her Baara." She said, gently rocking her babe as she was breastfeeding her child. "She looks like him, don't she m'lord? She has his nose, his black hair."

The baby girl looking like Robert? Well… it's too early to fully tell. All there is-is the tuffle of black hair and small hints of blue eyes.

Give her like five or ten years and come back to him on that.

"Aye." Was his response.

"Tell him when you see him, m'lord. If it pleases you, tell him how beautiful she is."

"I will."

"And tell him I've been with no one else. I swear it, m'lord, by the Old Gods and new. I don't want no jewels or nothing, just him." Requested the brothel mother. "The king was always good to me."

Ned gave a small nod. "When Jon Arryn came to visit you, what did he want?"

"He wasn't that sort of man, m'lord. He just wanted to know if the child was happy, healthy."

'Just like about every person on the list.' Thought the Stark as he smiled at the babe. "She seems healthy to me… Barra shall not want for nothing."

Leaving the one room, Ned made way to Baelish's office. Once there, he saw Littlefinger lounging on one of his couches with a pair of his employees beside him and Jory standing some feet away.

"Brothels make a much better investment than ships, I've found. Whores rarely sink."

Ned huffed a little as the Master of Coin got up and walked towards him. "What do you know of King Robert's bastards?" He asked.

"Well, he has more than you, for starters."

Ned gritted his teeth at the jab. "How many?"

"Does it matter? If you fuck enough women, some of them will give you presents."

"And Jon Arryn tracked them all down. Why?"

"He was the King's Hand." Baelish ventured. "Perhaps Robert wanted them looked after. He was overcome with fatherly love."

Ned held his gaze for a second before beaconing for Jory to follow. "It's time we took our leave. My business here is done."

Jory, however, was distractedly eying one of the whores who flashed him a breast. Yet he broke away soon after once his lord called upon him.

Just as they left the establishment in preparation to depart, a small contingent of Lannister men -led by the Kingslayer- encircled them.

"Such a small pack of wolves." Jamie said arrogantly.

"Stay back, Ser! This is the Hand of the King!" Jory warned.

"Was the Hand of the King." Jamie quickly replied. "Now I'm not sure what he is… Lord of somewhere very far away."

Just then Baelish came out of the brothel when he heard the commotion. "What's the meaning of this, Lannister?"

"Get back inside where it's safe." Ordered the Kingslayer before returning his attention to the Stark with a stern look. "I'm looking for my brother. You remember my brother, don't you? Blonde hair, sharp tongue, short man."

"I remember him well." Ned answered.

"It seems he had some trouble on the road. You wouldn't know what happened to him, would you?"

Ned knew that regardless of how he was going to answer this, it wouldn't satisfy the Kingslayer whatsoever.

'Dammit Cat.' Ned internally raged as he opened his mouth to speak. "He was taken at my command to answer for his crimes."

Jamie drew his sword as his stern look developed into a deathly serious one. Right after all men from both sides drew out their bladed weapons, except for Ned.

Fighting against the occasional Heartless skirmish has started to get Ned back into his old fighting prowess. And while he's still a good swordsman, he and his men were outmanned.

"My lords! I'll bring the City Watch." Said Littlefinger, who soon took off.

Jamie merely shrugged, not caring in the least.

"Come, Lord Stark. I'd rather you die sword in hand."

Jory took a step forward. "If you threaten my lord again-"

"Threaten?" Jamie cut him off. "As in, I'm going to open your lord from balls to brain and see what Starks are made of?"

"You kill me, your brother's a dead man." Ned warned the Kingslayer.

Jamie gave a small nod. "You know something? You're right." He then spoke aloud to the Lannister men around them. "Take him alive! Kill his men!"

Two Lannister men threw their spears, soon impaling Heward and Wyl through their chests. The others charged soon after, causing Ned to draw out Ice and swiftly blocked an incoming attack. After this, he brought his Valyrian sword down on the man, killing him right then and there before slicing through another.

Next to him, Jory grabs the spear of one of the incoming Lannister men, parrying it into a man charging on him from behind, then stabbing his sword through the spearman's gut.

After disposing of a few more guards, Jory was about to move towards Jamie -alone- when he hesitated.

The captain of the guard could not be overconfident here. Not now.

Seeing the remaining Northerner standing there, Ned jumped to conclusions.

"Stay back Jory." Barked out the Stark. "You can't take him."

"My Lord-"

"Stay back." Ned all but growled now.

Jory complied as he stepped back. When he did, he witnessed his lord fight against the Kingslayer.

They swung their blades at full force, cutting and hacking away at each other. The metallic clinking of their swords singing through the clearing. The guards watch the duel with amazement. Two renowned swordsmen locked in a clash of steel and will.

Jory paid rapt attention to each swing of their blades, every block and every parry. It was clear to see that Lord Stark was on the losing side of this battle, albeit barely as he was restraining himself.

From what Ned could realize, Jamie wasn't going in for the kill. Only coming at him as a threat.

Gritting his teeth, Ned swung his sword at full force this time around and Jamie felt the power behind it as he blocked it.

The Lannisters' eyes widened considerably, stumbling back slightly yet quickly righted his footing as quick as he was thrown off balance.

The shock of the attack soon turned into an excited grin as Jamie at last realized the prospect of a real fight.

He quickly stepped forward in a diagonal slash, the attack being parried by Ned and the two clashed blades a number of times.

The two fended each other off for a while, but as they break, one of Jamie's guards comes in with a spear, hoping to take out Lord Stark with a surprise attack.

Seeing this occur, Jory rushed in and stopped the Lannister guard from harming his lord. While he had averted the hit from harming the Stark, the captain of the guard received the hit in his place by receiving a long cut across his arm.

Jory hissed from the pain but fought back as he slew his opponent soon after.

Things would've continued further… if it weren't for someone's arrival.

"What the fuck is going on here?!"

Jamie was deftly yanked back by a powerful force and thrown to the ground.

Quickly getting back to his feet, the Kingslayer froze at the sight of Cloud Strife standing in front of Ned with his hand grasping at his large sword's handle.

Jory was by his Lord's side, sword still in hand as he looked about at the remaining Lannister men still surrounding them.

"Lannister." Cloud said, tone deadly. "Care to explain why you attacked the Lord Paramount of the North?"

Jamie didn't answer at first, warily eyeing the swordsman who glared heatedly back at him. This was not a man Jamie knew he would so easily best. His strength alone overpowered the Mountain and he bore witness to the awe inspiring power that this man possessed when fighting the creature that replaced Gregor Clegane.

He was a man not so easily trifled with.

"Well?" Cloud asked. "I'm waiting."

Jamie gulped slightly as he regained a bit of his composure. "His wife took my brother."

"And that gives you the excuse to attack him?" Cloud retorted. His head tilted up slightly and he instantly brought his sword out and pointed it at a Lannister guard who promptly soiled himself.

"Take one more step and you'll wish I killed you." Cloud threatened in a dark tone that made the Lannister guard and many others around him soil themselves.

Ned managed to steady his breathing, sword raised as he and Jory had their backs now to Cloud.

With gritted teeth, Jamie sheathed his sword. A Lannister guard brought his horse over as the Kingslayer continued his sneer.

"My brother, Lord Stark- we want him back."

With that said, Jamie quickly climbed onto his horse and rode off with the Lannister men following after him.

Ned and Jory sheathed their own blades and exhaled tiredly.

"Seven Hells." Ned said, dragging his hand down his face before looking at his deceased guards with spears in their guts. "Dammit. Gods dammit all."

"Don't worry, we'll get this sorted out." Said the blonde swordsman as he healed Jory of his wound. "One way or another."

-End Chapter-

AN:

Once again, sorry for keeping y'all waiting.

Work has been truly stressful for me, due to it being understaffed at my section of my workplace. It's taken a long time for some people to be properly transferred and trained accordingly so the workload will lessen from my shoulders. Until then, I had to more or less arrive extra early or stay in late to get a lot of stuff finished by the end of the day; which wasn't fun in the slightest.

FMW: This was a long one to work on as both of us haven't been able to sit down as often as we have been able to due to both of us having demanding jobs and this chapter being exceptionally long. Our longest one to date that we worked on together and we just finished a 30k chapter on Infinite Wars recently. So yeah, long process.

Jeb: So there have been more inclusions in the story to spice things up and I can already tell the lot of you will spot them immediately. And they'll have significance on their continued appearances in later events.

Anyways, be sure to review this story guys! Would like the criticisms. Please and thank you!

R&R