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.

33. A Golden Crown

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 33: A Golden Crown

'How could this have happened?'

This was Ned's thought as he sat within his former office in the Tower of the Hand. Dread and worry filled his very being with what occurred earlier at Baelish's brothel.

'I should never have bothered to go there. It was a complete waste of time. And because of it, two of my men are dead. Not to mention what'll happen next, all because of Catelyn acting irrationally.'

No doubt word will reach Tywin at some point. When it does, the Old Lion will call for war.

Infighting such as this is the least anyone should be doing now.

It came without warning when Robert stormed into the office with Cersei and both were rather angry, but for different reasons.

The king was still angry, due to what occurred earlier that day in the Small Council chambers. And if there was any indication, Robert was sober… or at least nearing a state of intoxication very soon. This left the Baratheon in a fouler mood than before.

As for Cersei, her anger was more controlled but was present. If Ned had to guess, it was because of him fighting her twin brother which made her rather unhappy at all.

"Do you know what your wife has done?" Asked Cersei.

And there was also that to consider about her present mood.

"She did nothing I did not command." Replied Ned.

"Who'd thought she had it in her?" Stated Robert.

"By what right do you have to lay on my blood? Who do you think you are?" The queen asked in anger.

As far as Cersei was concerned, the Lannisters did no wrong. Yes her father had done a number of horrible things throughout his life, but he wasn't punished for them. So why should she or Jamie or anyone else in her House be any different?

Tyrion didn't count, in her mind. She considered him an abomination unworthy of their House name. So if he died some horrible death, it was his fault and no one else's.

And yet her imp of a brother was still a Lannister and the name cannot be sullied with what occurred.

"I am the King's Hand, charged with keeping the peace-"

"You were the King's Hand! You should now be held accountable!" Cersei interrupted as both she and Ned began shouting against each other.

"Oh, will both of you shut your mouths?!" Robert roared out, silencing them both right then and there. "Catelyn will release Tyrion and you'll make your peace with Jamie!"

Robert knew right away that Ned was merely protecting his wife. And this had awkwardly put him into a position between Ned and Cersei and their respective Households.

This was like what happened at the Crossroads Inn all over again.

Ned gave an argument. "He butchered my men-"

Cersei interrupted him with a scoff. "Lord Stark was returning drunk from a brothel when his men attacked Jamie."

"Quiet, woman." Robert all but growled.

Ned being drunk in a brothel? The mere idea of it being insinuated infuriated Robert and was quick to defend his best friend.

"Jamie has fled the city. Give me leave or have Cloud or Roxas to bring him back to justice." Ned stated firmly.

"We are about to head for war, we have more pressing matters." Robert countered.

"Ser Jamie still attacked me unjustly." Ned countered. "He needs to be at least brought in for the answer of killing my guardsmen."

Robert contemplated Ned's offer all the while Cersei glared at them both; more so towards her husband.

"I took you for a king." Hissed Cersei.

"Hold your tongue!" Responded Robert.

"He's attacked one of my brothers and had his wife abduct the other." She sneered. "I should wear the armor and you the gown-"

*SLAP*

The mighty crack of flesh was loudly heard in the chamber.

Cersei held the left side of her face from the harsh sting she received. She didn't even let out a pained whimper or anything of the sort, only chuckling once recovering.

"I shall wear this like a badge of honor." Cersei sneered.

"Wear it in silence or I'll honor you again." The King threatened with his Queen only glaring back at him defiantly for a moment.

Robert's warning caused her to storm out of the chambers. And it would be later today or perhaps the early hours of tomorrow will the bruise form and cover half her face.

Ned looked on, making him wonder how long this had gone on in their marriage.

Seeing such a reaction from Cersei made him feel uneasy, realizing the abuse she must've endured made her numb after a certain point.

There was an awkward amount of silence before Robert finally spoke. "See what she does to me? My loving wife. Mother of my children." He walked over to where the wine was being kept, poured himself a cup and drank it. "I should not have hit her. That was not… That was not kingly."

"If we don't act… there will be war. Not just against Vanitas." Ned said with a near desperate tone now.

"So send a raven and tell your wife to return Tyrion to King's Landing." Robert said calmly. "She's had her fun, now put an end to it before Tywin does it in your stead."

"And what about Jamie Lannister? What about him?" Ned asked, pressuring his old friend.

"Even though Roxas paid the debt owed to that old lion, I still owe much to him!" Robert barked out. "In case you missed the blond haired woman who walked out of this room, she's the daughter of that blasted old fuck. I can't declare war on the house of my Queen."

With the great debts owed to both Casterly Rock and the Iron Bank cleared, the Crown still needs to recover financially. Tywin Lannister is the richest man in the Seven Kingdoms and he's still funding and backing Robert with his gold.

Essentially, in some ways, Tywin IS the actual ruler of Westeros.

"I don't know what happened between you and those yellow-haired shits and I don't want to know anymore. This is what matters: I can't rule the kingdoms if the Starks and Lannisters are at each other's throats with Vanitas out on the loose. So enough."

Ned sighed in bitterment. "As you command, your grace. With your leave, I will return to Winterfell and set matters straight. You commanded me to return home back in the council chambers, remember?"

"Piss on that. Send a raven. I want you to stay. I'm the king and I get what I want." Robert then took another cup of wine and drank it in one gulp. He looked onwards with a bitter expression.

"Robert I-"

"You're not going bloody anywhere you stubborn fuck, I need ya here and I need ya now." The King barked out. "I didn't travel halfway across a fucking continent just to say hello to my best friend."

Ned remained silent as he regarded his old friend whose form slouched.

"I never loved my brothers. Sad thing for a man to admit but it's true. You and Ventus… you two were the brothers I chose." Setting his cup down, he resumed speaking.

"I hated never seeing Ventus again." Robert's voice became more downtrodden as he reached for something beneath his tunic.

From it, he pulled a shiny gemstone of some kind that Ned squinted at as the shape was vaguely familiar.

"What is-"

"Ven made it for us, remember?" The Baratheon croaked out, eyes glistening momentarily and Ned instantly recognized what his old friend was holding.

"I wish I could put it back together but never knew how he made the damn things." Robert said with a fond yet broken voice. "What did he used to call them?"

Ned inclined his head down, placing a hand over where he kept the personal trinket Ven made for him.

"Wayfinders."

Robert said nothing at first, only nodding as he stared at the object in his hand.

What was once a five-pointed-star shaped object was more of a stylized teardrop at this point. It was primarily yellow with the Baratheon stag hanging off it's end.

"To find our way back to one another as all great friends do." The King nearly sniffled, a longing gaze for the days of old in his eyes. "After what happened, he practically severed ties with me by breaking this."

Robert's lip trembled. "It was the same feeling as when I lost Lyanna."

The Lord of Winterfell only stared at his friend sympathetically.

Sighing, the Baratheon shoved the broken Wayfinder piece into his tunic before standing up.

"We'll talk when I return from the hunt."

Ned looked on quizzically as Robert tossed over the Hand of the King pin back to him.

"The hunt?" The Stark asked, catching the pin in the air.

"Killing things clears my head. As much as I'd like to kill Heartless or Unversed, I'm not prepared and ready for 'em. I'd go for the next best thing in the Kingswood." Robert informed him. "You'll have to sit on the Iron Throne while I'm away. You'll hate it more than I do."

Robert made his way out of the room when Ned spoke up. "The Targaryen girl-"

"Seven Hells- will you shut up about Daenerys?! The girl will die and I'll hear no more of it." The king groused out irritably. "Put on the badge and if you ever take it off again, I swear to the Mother I'll pin the damned thing on Jamie Lannister myself."

Ned brought his hand to his face, rubbing his eyes which started to get tired from all this frustration.

"That could've turned out well." Said Cloud, who strolled into the office some moments after Robert's departure.

The reinstated Hand didn't respond back immediately as he needed to process through all of the stress piling onto him now.

"I take it you heard everything?"

"Didn't exactly make any efforts to hide it." Cloud bluntly stated making Ned grunt irritably.

"Have they been taken care of?"

"The bodies of your two men? Just about when I saw them last." Answered the blonde swordsman. "Roxas will be able to take them to the North through a Corridor, given they aren't living anymore."

This brought a sad, bitter taste into his mouth.

It's still unnerving when seeing a Corridor of Darkness being conjured and being used. For Vanitas had used it in the past which signaled his arrival. And when Roxas told him of what he was all that time ago with his capabilities of using such a thing made him wish the connection was merely a coincidence.

But with Vanitas confirmed to have become a member of Organization XIII, it made him worry what else may occur.

Now while using a Corridor is dangerous for those without wearing the right garments, there is often a loophole around it. There was nothing mentioned about those who were no longer amongst the living.

Once the bodies of Heward and Wyl are cleaned up, mended and placed into their caskets, Roxas will take them back to Winterfell for proper funeral rights before coming right back.

"I see… good." Ned muttered with a sigh. "Now we need to resolve the issue with my wife and Tyrion."

"Do you have any idea where she might've taken him?" The swordsman asked, arms crossed as he leaned against a wall

The Stark patriarch was silent for a moment, thinking as he did. "Riverrun seems a likely option. But I'm not exactly sure."

"Is there anywhere else that comes to mind?"

A frown marred the reinstated Hand's face soon after. "Her sister at the Eyrie."

"Why'd you think that?"

"It is not far from where she did capture Tyrion Lannister." Ned noted. "It would not be a stretch to believe that she would go there. The Tully's and Arryns are allied through the Rebellion that brought them together after all."

"Yeah but that was almost twenty years ago." Cloud countered. "A lot can change in twenty years."

"I'm well aware of that but the alliance still holds weight." Ned shot back. "So that is most likely where Cat has taken Tyrion."

Cloud only shrugged. "If you say so. Roxas could go over there in a snap and get Tyrion-"

"But it would take weeks for his return with no proper way of contacting him if he were to escort the Imp." Interrupted the Stark. "Both of you told me of the dangers involving the use of the Corridors without proper power or the coat he wears. We need him here in the capital."

Cloud saw the Lord Paramount and Hand lean upon his desk with a tired aura around him.

He may not have been here for long compared to Roxas but in his time on this World, he has found a few people he respects and can even regard them as friends to a degree.

Eddard Stark was one of these men.

"I'll go then."

Ned's head snapped up to Strife with a look of surprise clear as day to see. "What now?"

The blonde wolf shrugged. "You heard me."

"Why? I have not asked you to do such a thing."

"You need Rocas here right? So I'll handle this myself. Wouldn't be the first time doing such a job." Cloud informed him. "I'll just need to talk to Roxas on how to speed things up and take it from there."

Eddard released a haggard and relieved sigh. "Thank you, Cloud. I owe you."

"Put it on my tab."

Ned snorted a little, not knowing if Cloud was merely jesting or being serious.

"How am I to even pay you?"

Cloud only shrugged his shoulders again. "You'll figure it out."

"Are you even a Sellsword?" Ned questioned. "I have yet to pay you nor have I even been requested of any payment type."

The blond man only gave Ned a rare smirk of amusement in response.

Before dismissing the blonde sellsword, a thought crossed his mind. An opportunity that would be hard to not take advantage of.

"While you're at the Eyrie, I want you to do another thing for me."

"...I'm listening."

-Night, Vaes Dothrak-

Sitting within her tent, Daenerys had more or less been playing with Illyrio's gifts.

Ever since her pregnancy, the Targaryen girl started to see the petrified dragon eggs as the physical manifestation of the child growing in her belly. It was an odd mindset, or a little delusional act, but what else could be done. This was her first pregnancy and doesn't know how she may act while in such a state. She had asked around for some advice or knowledge from those who went through the experience, but they never satisfied her curiosity.

It didn't help with her having an unusual dream quite recently and rather frequently.

In them, she was a dragon; mighty and beautiful. She soared through the sky with a bellowing roar escaping her toothy maw. Feeling utterly free from just about any problems she possibly would have imagined.

Before long, Dany's dreamself landed at some cave where a black cloaked woman happily greeted her on her return. When they went further into the dwelling, Dany had seen a large egg resting peacefully and undisturbed inside of a rather large nest.

Upon checking on it, her dreamself was troubled when feeling the egg was extremely cold. Acting quickly, she let loose a stream of dragonfire onto it with her companion assisting her with some magic. And from that fiery blaze, the egg started to hatch. But instead of hearing one sound from it, there were more.

It was only after that did the Targaryen girl wake up. Leaving her rather confused each and every time in utter wonderment.

Dany didn't think much more about it, only thinking they were just a recurring dream and nothing more.

Upon setting down the white/gold colored egg beside the jade/bronze, she picked up the black/red one as Dany marveled it's surface. The eggs were beautiful to her as they were a symbol of her ancient heritage.

Only then did something seem… off about it. It might've been her mind playing tricks on her, but she felt this particular egg rather… cold to the touch.

Without thinking, she stood and walked to the burning brazier and knelt beside it. Smoke and steam rising from the burning rocks and wood to keep the tent warm. Her amethyst eyes then gazed to the fire, one that had similarly birthed and killed Old Valyria.

Gently placing the blackened egg there, Dany soon retrieved the other two and set them beside their sibling. The flickers of flames popped and crackled around the smooth scales. From there, her amethyst eyes were transfixed upon the spot as if in a mesmerized trance for an untold amount of time.

After some moments, Dany thought she was imagining things. She thought she heard something from the eggs. Movement? A flutter, perhaps?

"Dany?"

The Targaryen ignored the speaker, only transfixed at the blackened egg. In some weird way with the light, she seemed to think there was some color being brought into the object alongside the supposed movements.

This intrigued her. Reaching out, Dany picked up the blackened egg from the burning pit and cradled it in her delicate yet roughed hands. From there, the exiled princess seemingly felt the flutter like her own child within her belly.

"Dany."

The Khalessi finally snapped out of her unusual trance when she felt a hand placed on her shoulder. Turning her head, she saw Xion kneeling beside her.

"You okay?"

The Targaryen Princess was unsure of how to answer. "I… I don't know."

The Keybearer took the heated egg out of her friend's hands and gently placed it back into the brazier. With the hands freed, Xion turned Dany's pale hands over to check if there were any burns at all; only to find none.

"No burn marks," she said. "Just like at Illyiro's manse."

Dany can actually recall what moment Xion was referring to.

It was shortly after her friend came to live with them in Pentos. Dany was experiencing a horrible nightmare with the Heartless almost slewing her. Xion was sleeping in the same room, woke up with a start and checked up on her.

Everything was alright, but Dany needed something to drink, due to her throat being sore and dry from the screaming and whatnot.

As Xion left to get her friend some water, Dany laid in her bed as she started to feel rather cold. The fireplace had gone out during their slumber and Dany felt rather impatient in waiting for her friend's return. Thus she went to restart the fire.

Upon her return, Xion saw Dany hunched over the fireplace with her hands literally touching the freshly lit wood.

Rushing quickly, she pried the hands from the fire and was about to cast Cure to fix the damage. But to her confusion, there were no burns on her palms at all.

"Fire," Xion began. "I still wonder how you're able to not get hurt by it."

Dany was only silent, feeling a little self conscious at the moment. 'A dragon does not burn.' She thought, both back then and in the present.

"You've started to become fascinated with it for a while now." Resumes her friend. "I… I worry about you, Dany."

"I know." Quietly said the princess, internally touched by her best friend's concerns.

Fire had been a unique subject in her family line. Ever since the last dragon died out during the reign of Aegon the Unlucky, magic seemed to have died out in her House. There have been attempts to revive the dragons so they may have their lost power back, which will return both magic and strength. But each one was met with utter failure.

Aegon III had a number of mages work their spells on a clutch of eggs. Baelor the Blessed prayed over them for half a year. Maesters were ordered to work and create concoctions to be poured onto them for some reaction. Aerion Brightflame drank a draught of wildfire, believing he would become a dragon soon after from his charred remains. Aegon the Unlikely, the fifth of his name, sent people to scour the world for possible solutions. Before long he lit a mighty flame at Summerhall with most of his family inside; which caused the near extinction of their House.

All that was left was smoke, ash and utter disappointment.

Yet this didn't stop their obsession. One such example being her father -the Mad King- with him burning others to death.

Instead of voicing the thoughts plaguing Dany's mind, Xion said something else. "I worry you might become like Axel."

This ended up getting a snorted chuckle out of the Targaryen girl.

"And pray tell how I might become like him of all people?" Dany asked in amusement.

Xion held a mischievous smile in place now. "I can think of a few things."

Dany smiled alongside her friend on her means of relieving the tension slowly rising in the air.

Whenever Daenerys was in a state of melancholy or a more saddened mood, Xion always found ways to alleviate this feeling.

Usually it came in the form of her speaking about her two closest friends she had, Roxas and Axel.

To the Targaryen girl, it was clear for her to see the love her close friend held for her two friends. Perhaps something more as there were times where Xion didn't speak for a moment whenever she spoke of Roxas.

"Since we're on the topic of magic." Dany cleared her throat. "I've been thinking… For a while now since you've been training me, could you perhaps teach me to use magic?"

Xion sat there with a pondering look. "I could, but I don't exactly know if I'll be good enough."

"But you've been great at teaching me swordplay."

"I know, Dany, but from what I've learned about your ancestors, the only magic your lineage had was bonding with dragons and having a resistance to fire and heat. While the former was more well known, the latter was merely theorized. Even if I could somehow tap and awaken your dormant power, I don't know if it could go beyond the two."

"It wouldn't hurt to try."

Xion sighed, rubbing the side of her head in thought. "Guess your right. But I think it would be better doing so once you're no longer pregnant."

Dany merely gave her dear friend a look. "Why exactly?"

"I honestly don't know what might happen if I did so with… your baby still inside you. I could end up harming it or-"

"You would never harm either of us. I know you."

Xion rolled her eyes good naturedly at her friend. "I believe that but I don't know it. We're talking about the "crazy" things that I do on the daily that you have no idea how you'll react to. We'll start magic training after you've had your baby and I'll hear no more of it from you."

The exiled princess pouted like a child, but relented. Princess and Khaleesi that she was, Dany knew that if there was one who she held no true command over it was Xion.

"And you gotta get some sleep, Dany. You have quite the day tomorrow."

Dany exhaled a sigh. "Don't remind me."

"Nervous?"

"I would be lying if I said no."

Xion grabbed her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. "You'll do fine. Just remember some of the advice the other Dothraki women told you and you'll pull through."

-Morning, The Eyrie-

It had honestly felt like a week had passed since Tyrion found himself in the Sky Cells of the Eyrie. In truth, it was merely a day or two, which was quite the experience for him to talk about one day.

In a unique way, it was like he was back at the Wall. The frigid cold air whipping against him, the hundreds of feet between where he stood to the earth below, and the fact he could take a piss off the side and no one would really care.

Taking a shit, however, was hard to work with. Not to mention him trying not to get too comfortable in his sleep.

It just so happened that earlier when he woke up, Tyrion almost fell to his demise. He cursed himself on his sleeping habit of being an occasional bed roller, added to the fact the floor was slanted to make this worse.

At least there was a very, very small benefit of being here in isolation: it gave him time to think.

Tyrion thought back to his first "supposed" crime of wanting Bran Stark dead. The details of the event had been laid out and discussed on the trip towards the Giant's Lance. Not to mention who the perpetrator was theorized to be.

The Imp of House Lannister had tried thinking back of his time at Winterfell after Catelyn's son fell from the Broken Tower. Trying to recollect when Robert perhaps spoke about having Bran being dead instead of being a cripple would be a mercy. And from there if Joffrey so happened to overhear this in some form of fashion.

When he got stuck, Tyrion thought of his "other" crime of murdering Jon Arryn. He wondered who might've arranged the death and for what purpose. This accusation was freshly new to his ears when he was first brought here and he was completely stumped.

At first, he had consoled himself that they wouldn't dare kill him out of hand. Now he was no longer certain.

If he were to die, his father would have free reign of declaring war on the Vale and perhaps the Riverlands and the North. Not to mention finding a more suitable replacement as heir to Casterly Rock due to the Imp no longer amongst the living.

If Lord Arryn had been murdered, rather than coming down with a deadly fever, it was deftly done. But sending an oaf with a precious and valuable knife was clumsy.

Perhaps the direwolves and the lions were not the only predatory beasts in the wood.

He then started to wonder who might've been the one to instigate this situation in the first place. Who was the one to apparently direct Lady Stark in searching for him with the false accusation of ownership? Who was the one who held much sway to perhaps nudge a number of people in the right direction?

"Littlefinger." Tyrion muttered out.

If Baelish was using him as a scapegoat, then for what purpose? Regardless, Tyrion hated to be used.

Well… his mouth had gotten him into this cell. It could goddamn get him out of it.

Rising to his feet, he went to the entrance to the cell and started banging against it.

"Mord! Turnkey! Mord!"

It took some time before he heard the footsteps. When the jingling of keys could be heard soon after, Tyrion stepped back so he wouldn't get hit by the swinging door.

Of course he had to quickly move away so he wouldn't get bashed and whipped by Mord's leather weapon.

"Dwarf man making noise!"

Back against the far off wall, Tyrion was dangerously close to the cell's ledge. His heart started beating with cold sweat dripping down his face. A quick shove of the turnkey's arms or heavy belly could send Tyrion falling and becoming a sickening red splotch down below.

With Mord hovering over him, Tyrion spoke as calmly and as fast as he could. "How would you like to be rich?"

Mord smacked him across his chest, earning a pained yelp in response. "Dwarf man still making noise."

Composing from the pain, Tyrion continued to "make noise". "My family is rich. We have gold, lots of gold. I'm prepared to give you lots of gold in-"

The turnkey started searching for him rather suddenly before harshly glaring at him. "You no gold!"

"Well, I don't have it here!"

"No gold!" Said Mord as he whipped him before storming out of the cell. "Fuck off!"

Exhaling a sigh in frustration, Tyrion leaned against the door as he had to work and adjust his plan. But he can't immediately enact it, due to Mord's current foul mood.

-Tower of the Hand, The Red Keep-

Walking through the doorway of the training room in the Tower of the Hand, Syrio had a pair of wooden swords with him. Sitting on the bench was his student with her gently petting her direwolf pet.

He tossed one to her who quickly caught the training weapon out of reflex. An instant later, the Braavosi went into his swordstance all the while waiting for Arya to rise from her seat and go into hers.

"I… I don't want to practice today." Arya said softly.

Syrio rose a brow as he got out of his stance. "No?"

"Some of my father's men are dead. Jory almost died and my father was nearly hurt. I don't care about stupid wooden swords right now." The little She-Wolf's mood was somber and melancholy.

In a way, Arya didn't want to be here at this moment. She wanted to either be in her chambers or with her sister. Both of them were troubled with what happened to their father. Whereas Sansa prayed quietly for things to turn out alright, Arya was quite fierce on a number of things.

She wanted to go home. She could tell her father did as did her sister. This blasted Capital was nothing more than a rotten city of deception and death.

The young She-wolf hadn't been this angry since the false accusations Joffrey did back at the Crossroads Inn.

"You are troubled."

"I am."

"Good. Trouble is the perfect time for training." He stated, much to her confusion. "When you are dancing in the meadow with your dolls and kittens, this is not when fighting happens."

She started to growl at her instructor. "I don't like dolls and-" Arya quickly swiped her wooden sword to block the incoming hit on her arm. "Hey!"

"You're not here. You're with your trouble. If you are with your trouble when fighting happens-"

Syrio started swinging his weapon at her. She started to evade them while retaliating with ones of her own. Yet he outmaneuvered her and knocked her off her feet. She then laid there with the wooden sword aimed at her face.

"-more trouble for you."

The Stark girl merely laid there as she heard someone else make their presence in the training room.

"I don't believe she really gets your lesson right now."

Arya turned her head over to the side. Standing on the windowsill was the crown wearing feline she had met the other day.

"Cait Sith?" Arya was surprised to see the anthropomorphic cat so soon.

The walking, talking cat waved. "Hiya, Wolfie. Did you miss me?"

"What are ya doing here?" Arya asked, sitting up.

"Promised I'd see ya again, didn't I?" Cait Sith said chipperly.

"You know this creature, boy?" Syrio spoke up, eyes alight with wonder and intrigue.

"She's a boy?" Cait asked in confusion. "I thought she was a girl."

"I am a Girl." Arya pouted. "He just calls me that."

Cait hummed. "Now that I think about it; with the way you act and look, you could perhaps pass as one."

The Stark girl merely glared at him while the Braavosi analytically looked at him.

"Aren't you an interesting creature?"

"And aren't you an interesting swordsman."

Syrio chuckled in response. "Well met, little one. Syrio Forel, the First Sword of Braavos."

"Cait Sith, greatest Cat to have ever lived."

Syrio chuckled at the flamboyant introduction.

"I have seen many queer animals in the Sealord's menagerie. Striped horses, hairy mouse-pigs as big as cows, tigers that carry their cubs in pouches. I've seen these things and more. As for cats, I've seen thousands like them in the alleys of Braavos."

"And from this city, given what little Arya told me when we first met."

Syrio chuckled. "Here as well. But you, Cait Sith, are no ordinary tomcat."

The talking Cat puffed his chest out proudly. "Being ordinary is boring. One is unique in their own way."

Hopping off the windowsill, Cait Sith was soon met by Nymeria. She towered over the cat-creature as it growled a little.

"I've seen a more intimidating look from Nanaki." Cait Sith said, poking the Direwolf in the nose which soon blinked in confusion at the gesture.

She looked at Arya who giggled and shook her head.

"He's harmless, Nymeria." the Stark girl gestured for her Direwolf to come to her side. "Who's Nanaki?"

"A friend of mine." Said the talking feline.

"Where is he now?"

Cait shrugged. "I have no clue. We got separated a while back and haven't seen him since."

"Is… is he like you?" Arya asked.

"Like me?"

"A talking cat."

"I honestly don't know." Cait remarked.

"You don't know?"

"Hey, he's weird like me, that's all I can really say."

Syrio chortled at this interaction. "Come boy, our lessons aren't over yet. You can chat with him later."

"I thought I said I don't want to practice today." Arya grumped.

"And I have told you that your state is the perfect time to practice." Syrio gestured with his fingers. "Now up, up. Your dancing master expects you to surpass him someday and we shall not waste a single time or day."

Arya grumbled as the anthropomorphic cat looked on.

"I see you're having problems with your lesson here." Cait pointed out. "Do you need to go out and chase more animals-"

Arya flicked her tongue at Cait only to have her hand struck by Syrio.

"Hey!" She complained. "I wasn't-

"Ready?" Syrio tutted. "What have I told you about excuses like that?"

Arya huffed as she got into her usual stance.

"There's usually a time and place where you can focus on your worries." Said the crown-wearing cat. "If you mesh it while you're in a dire situation, you'll be quite distracted and get hurt in the end."

"The cat speaks wisely." Syrio said approvingly.

"I've had plenty of experience with the subject." Cait said cryptically. "More than one could ever know. Even my friends share these problems."

Arya wanted to ask what he meant by that though she had to keep herself from getting struck several times.

"One needs a healthy outlet so their worries won't consume them. Training often works. Depends on the person though." Cait remarked.

"All are different but can learn to flow through the stream of their choosing." Syrio said with a quick flourish.

"What does that mean?" Arya asked and a moment later, with a sweep of his leg, Syrio tripped up his young apprentice who fell to the floor.

"One must know and properly manage themselves. If you don't, you'll be an utter mess." Said Cait. "Working or focusing on something for so long will eventually burn yourself out. Your mind won't be in the right place and it'll be some time till you're back to normal. Yet one doesn't have the luxury to always make it so. You'll be placed in a state of duress from out of nowhere and you must learn sooner or later to work with it often."

"He speaks true once again." Said Syrio as Arya got back onto her feet. "How can you be quick as a snake or as quiet as a shadow when you are somewhere else?" Syrio didn't continue on with the training, only giving her a sympathised expression. "You are fearing for your father and those close to you, hmm?" She nodded in response. "You have the right, young Arya. Tell me, do you pray to the gods?"

"The Old and the New." Was her response.

Syrio merely gave her a smile. "There is only one god and his name is Death. And there is only one thing we say to Death: Not today."

Arya regarded those words for a few moments, thinking them over.

"It feels like you two are ganging up on me." She finally said after a few seconds with her Dancing Master laughing in response.

"Perhaps we are." Forel conceded. "Or perhaps we are seeing if you can learn, little Wolf."

Syrio made a sudden horizontal swing with Arya hastily blocking it.

Yet rather than simply holding it back, she angled her hand slightly and had the wooden sword pivot upwards and make the strike go over her head.

Syrio went for another strike and once again, she deflected it, though with a smoother transition now.

"Ah~ so you can learn."

Arya's cheeks puffed out. "What would be the point of me being here then?"

Syrio's grin widened. "Yes child. What would be the point? Again."

From the sidelines, Cait Sith merely viewed the training session beside Nymeria. A fond, feline smile graced his features as he soon chuckled.

"She reminds me of a few people I know."

Nymeria turned to him with a canine equivalent of a raised brow.

"What? She does."

-The Red Keep Gardens-

It was quaint and quiet in the gardens of the Red Keep.

Almost always was.

Peaceful and a simple place to spend time to oneself.

It was one of Myrcella's favorite places to be.

She always enjoyed being here at any time of day as it was the place she would always run around and play with any kids that were staying in the Red Keep and her younger brother.

Yet the mere thought of her younger sibling brought a bitter taste in her mouth.

Myrcella came to her to escape from her worries, yet she kept thinking about them.

Not just about her favorite sibling, but the present issue plaguing the land.

Monsters attacking the common folk with many Lords getting issued orders to assemble their bannermen in their efforts to fight back against these creatures.

Her father spoke of an evil individual that once plagued Westeros having returned, knowing it to be that terrifying figure in the black helmet and that he would be the one to bring war back to this continent.

She thought it was only going to be a made up story, but it was in fact real.

After seeing it first hand at the tourney for Lord Stark's appointment as Hand of the King, Myrcella and many others bore witness to the terror that was Vanitas.

Now there was a growing state of unrest across Westeros as many Lords have begun mobilizing their men.

The only other time that Myrcella was aware of that involved war was the Greyjoy Rebellion that happened nine years ago.

She was only five at the time and all she could really remember was her father and uncle going off to war and being absent for a time.

And now here they were once again with a war on the horizon.

Though there have been troubling rumors of the Lannisters and the Starks being at odds with each other.

She wasn't fully aware as to what was going on but from what she was able to pick up it had something to do with her uncle Tyrion and Lord Stark's wife Catelyn.

Frankly, Myrcella seldom really cared for it as she didn't fully understand what was going on.

All she knew was a lot of bad things were about to happen in Westeros and she could only watch and wait to see what happens.

"Myrcella?"

The Princess whirled around with her smiling widely at the sight of her betrothed approaching her.

"Roxas." She said happily, meeting him halfway and embracing him.

He was slightly surprised by this gesture but returned it a second later.

"What are you doing here, Roxas?" the Princess asked.

"Was looking for you actually." Roxas admitted. "Your mother wondered where'd you gone off to and sent me to find you."

"Ah." Myrcella nodded. "I guess I just… wanted to be alone for a while."

Roxas gave her a nod of understanding.

"Why here then?" He found himself asking.

Myrcellla turned away from her betrothed and idly gazed about the multitude of plant life in the gardens.

"I miss Tommen." She abruptly stated with a sad smile. "We used to come here all the time and play together. I hope he's doing alright."

Roxas frowned in thought as he saw the reminiscent and forlorn gaze the Princess held.

"I can go to him and check up on him if ya want." He suggested, surprising her.

"Yo-you can?" she stuttered.

"I can teleport you know." Roxas said. "A corridor is all I need in getting around. That and a proper focus."

Myrcella recalled this and gave him a serene, appreciative smile.

"Thank you Roxas." She said earnestly, pecking him on the cheek which caused his face to light up slightly.

She giggled at his reaction and had to agree on one of the many topics she had spoken with Arianne Martell when it comes to boys.

Bashful ones who seldom display the usual unpleasant lust of most men are endearing to say the least.

Her smile lessened as her eyes looked elsewhere.

"Even if you send a message to him, it won't entirely be the same. Just his presence nowhere near makes things even worse."

"I get that." He said after a few moments of silence.

"Is there anyone you ever miss, Roxas?"

No. XIII's mood made a downturn of sorts with a bittersweet smile appearing a moment later.

"Yeah." He said softly. "All the time."

Myrcella certainly wasn't expecting such a shift in his demeanor but now her interest was piqued.

"Who?"

Roxas turned away from her and momentarily glanced over to the sun that was in the stages of beginning to set on the horizon.

In an instant, he heard the echoing sounds of a belltower followed by laughter with the phantom presence of two individuals on both his sides.

"Quite a number of people from the North. My two best friends, Axel and Xion." Roxas's smile was sad and longing for days that had passed him by. "And even if I've been with them for several weeks, I miss Trevor, Sypha and Alucard."

Like Myrcella, it wasn't entirely the same when contacting the three Wallachians through his enchanted mirror. He fought beside them and gained a great sense of comradery with the trio.

"What were these friends like?" Myrcella asked. "Have you seen them recently?"

"In a sense, I have. Trevor, Sypha and Alucard are the ones I met the most recently." Roxas said. "They're a bit of a weird bunch but in the end they're really good people. Axel and Xion…"

His voice died in his throat with his eyes glistening momentarily.

Myrcella found her heart clench up momentarily at the normally cheerful blond to have such a somber state.

She reached out and grasped his hand though he didn't respond right away.

"I had to fight them both." Roxas' voice was cracked slightly, a hint of anger clear to hear. "Because of some bastards and their plans, I was forced into fighting my two best friends. One died in my arms, the other died saving others. And I couldn't do a damn thing about it."

His expression then changed into one of intense anger that actually frightened Myrcella momentarily.

"And the bastards responsible for all of it are back." Roxas said in a fierce and furious tone. "If they think that I'm just gonna wait for them to come and wreak havoc on this World, they have another thing coming."

Myrcella merely sat there, thinking about a few things.

In a way, she couldn't blame him for his present state. She heard the many tales of her betrothed. Yet there had to be more about him than what he was revealing.

Another was Roxas reminding her of her father. Robert's hatred towards the Targaryens of taking much from him and his family. It was justified as he enacted his vengeance with his Rebellion. Unfortunately his hatred still lingers on to this day with his distant relatives. And it may never leave him.

Myrcella feared Roxas might go through the same path on his vendetta towards Organization XIII.

Roxas slumped slightly. "Sorry you had to see that."

"No, no, no." Myrcella placed a hand upon his shoulder. "It's alright. I can only imagine what it's like to lose people you love in front of you. That pain…"

Roxas reigned in a snort as he thought of that word she used.

'Love.' He thought in self-deprecation. 'How can a Nobody like me ever love anyone?'

He looked over to Myrcella who was gazing up at him and he thought about the situation they both found themselves in.

"Myrcella…" Roxas sighed aloud. "Look, I don't know if I made it obvious or not but about our betrothal-"

"You didn't want it to happen." Myrcella answered for him before he could say anything else.

No. XIII slumped slightly with him nodding.

"Yeah." He said without hesitating. "I never wanted any of this."

Exhaling a sigh, the blonde Baratheon soon spoke.

"It's not the first time I've heard of this. I'm not as ignorant as some perhaps believe."

"Never pegged you as such." Roxas said good naturedly.

"Pegged?"

He laughed slightly. "Assumed."

"Ah." Myrcella smiled in amusement. "Strange word."

With her living in the capital, Myrcella had to learn a number of unconventional things one way or another. Things that she wasn't taught by Grand Maester Pycelle or one of her standard instructors.

She was born and raised in a den of snakes after all.

"I don't know if you remember me telling you this, but I've had a few suitors." She informed him.

"It might've come up. You just didn't like them all that well." he said knowingly.

"Same with my mother, given she had a very high expectation on who would be my husband. Jon Arryn had arranged them to see how the courtship would go. Entertaining any loyal lord and future heir of some House through several kingdoms on the very idea of one lucky person marrying me."

"But they didn't work out at all."

"Exactly."

"Because they weren't real."

Silence surrounded the blonde pair, but the confirmed answer didn't need to be voiced.

"Oberyn told me about this a while back." Began the blonde Nobody. "Love can be hateful. Love can be blinding. Love can be mischief. But overall, love is an imaginary dagger. It's a weapon to be wielded far away or up close. You can see yourself in it. It's beautiful… until it makes you bleed. But ultimately, when you reach for it… it isn't real."

"...Quite the terrible metaphor."

Roxas snorted. "I know, it's from Oberyn after all. But in a way it seems appropriate. One just needs to be careful to see if the love is genuine."

"Then how do you know a love is genuine?"

"Taking the plunge." He said simply. "Taking a chance. Something which… I… I haven't taken much into consideration lately."

His mind thought back to what Tyene spoke to him the other day. In a way, it fits more in a number of ways. Friendship and things beyond that.

"Why haven't you?"

"You can imagine why. Aside from the obvious, I just needed to hear the right things from some people I know."

"Like who?"

"Tyene got the ball rolling. Others, however, merely caused it to skid as divert. But Alucard helped get it back onto the right path."

After leaving the North, Roxas momentarily visited the dhampir to not only check up on him but seeking advice on his betrothal.

The present lord of Castle Dracula lamented further on the tale on how his parents got together. After some time of his mother Lisa learning under the Vampiric lord and from his vast library, they started taking interests with each other. Yet neither one could really step forward to take the chance of beginning their courtship.

They merely danced around their feelings for a while until both parties subtly did so in their own unique ways upon noticing things. Afterwards, Vlad Dracula Tepes finally mustered up the courage to basically ask her out on a date.

Things then fell into place from there, all because Adrian's parents took the plunge. A chance to see if their growing feelings were genuine.

Myrcella was silent for a few moments in order to finish processing all this.

"Your best friends, Axel and Xion." She said softly. "Did you love them?"

He certainly wasn't expecting her to ask him that and he fell silent as his mind went back to the times he had spent with both of them all the way to when he saw them both last.

The anguish of holding Xion as he faded in his arms and the sorrow of watching Axel through Sora's eyes disintegrate.

"I… I did." Roxas said, more to himself then he did to Myrcella. "God I still do. I… I wanna see them again… but…"

"They're gone." Myrcella said with a sad face.

"Yet… I know that as long as they're in my heart and in my memories, they'll never leave me."

"That sounds lovely." Myrcella spoke in a quiet tone, a small smile in place now.

The space around them grew somber as the sounds of nature kept filling the air.

Things then shifted a little as conversations changed topics.

"Roxas… about your life-"

"Myrcella… I think I don't have to talk to you or tell you about how chaotic my life is." Roxas said knowingly and she giggled slightly in response.

"I wouldn't wish anyone to have such heavy responsibilities as you have, Roxas."

He had a small smile appear with him nodding. "Yeah, so getting married isn't something I see in my future any time soon really."

"Perhaps later on?"

Roxas shrugged. "Even then, I don't know to be perfectly honest with you. I… for the longest time, I really wished to just have a normal life you know? Just do everyday things, not concern myself with others other than those I care for."

"But…?" Myrcella leaned forward expectantly.

Rather than verbally answering, Roxas instead called for his Keyblade and not one Myrcella had seen before.

It was more simple in design, being silver with a round edge, crown like teeth and a gold guard around his hand with a silver chain, the small keychain at the end being three circles.

"Having this Keyblade means my life is kinda decided for me in a sense." Roxas said, somewhat bitterly. "My duty is to the World at large, protecting it from things like the Heartless and Unversed."

Myrcella frowned as she soon spoke.

"Can't you perhaps try to put aside your duty and find time for yourself?"

"I could, but opportunities rarely present themselves." The Nobody said dejectedly.

"I see…"

"And really…" Roxas contemplated for a brief moment. "I'd hate myself for not trying to help those that I can, knowing I have the power to do so."

Roxas looked at the Kingdom Key Keyblade in his hand that shifted into that of Oathkeeper.

"If I can help people in trouble, in danger, I have this annoying habit of running headfirst towards the problem then away from it."

The blond, blue-eyed teen thought of his Somebody and jokingly blamed this trait on him.

"You have a people saving problem, don't you?" Myrcella teased.

"Unfortunately."

"I say I admire that about you." The princess said with a serene smile.

Roxas blinked in mild-surprise. "You do?"

"I do as do many others in the realm." Myrcella nodded. "When I was at Winterfell, everyone from lord and lady to smallfolk spoke of how they appreciate you being there and helping the North. Down here… it's been mostly the ladies but-"

"Yeah, I'm well aware." Roxas said dryly, suddenly missing the North again. "Half the Lords and knights look at me like they wanna throttle me."

"You are close friends with many Great Houses, you know." Myrcella said knowingly. "You're gaining much influence with the royal court. And betrothed to the Princess. The Lords that you know knew your father but many in this age now did not."

Roxas let out a derisive snort. "Nothing to piss off some rich assholes then a Nobody coming in and hogging all the attention."

"They are rather threatened, I can't argue with that. Changing the status quo in such a way makes them worried."

"I'm surprised you mentioned my-" Roxas's brow twitched. "Father."

"My own father spoke about him often." Myrcella stated. "Him and Jon told stories about him whenever they could. Speaking so passionately on how much of a great person he was."

Roxas was silent as he thought about this stranger named Ventus. So many people that he has met always talk about his likeness to him. And they also speak of him fondly and kindly.

Just who he was has been plaguing his mind as the days wore on.

"Yet they hold much regret after speaking for so long. Both wanted to mend their mistakes, but never had the opportunity to do so." Said the princess. "While Jon Arryn can't do so now, my father wants to take the chance more than ever."

"Yeah well when children are dead and a friend laughs at that, can't imagine things would be so easy to mend." Roxas snarled, a sudden feeling of rage coursing through him.

Myrcella frowned and nodded. "That no doubt puts a damper on the relationship. Ruining something which had been built for so long. Yet one action causes it to all crumble down with no clear way of rebuilding it just the way it once was."

As this was said, Roxas thought back to his time back in the Organization. How things went with him and his two friends. How things became strained due to Xemnas' manipulations where everything fell apart in the very end.

"Yeah… yeah." Roxas' expression hardened though his eyes held turmoil and grief at the thought of his two best friends in all the Worlds and how everything they had was ripped to shreds thanks to the Organization.

Seeing his state of duress, Myrcella reached out and took his hand into hers. She gave it a gentle squeeze, which was returned in kind; even if she winced from the pressure.

Roxas took notice of this, making him lessen the grip but didn't let go.

"Sorry, forgot my own strength there."

Myrcella giggled at that. "Hard to imagine why."

No. XIII huffed a small laugh.

The two shared a moment of comfortable silence between each other as they simply stood together in the gardens of the Red Keep.

After a few more seconds, Roxas coughed into his free hand.

"About our betrothal… our relationship. Can we… Can we perhaps start again?" he asked awkwardly.

"Start again?"

"Starting anew." He clarified. "This courtship between us has been rather difficult to begin with. Neither of us can deny that. Coming out of nowhere and neither of us were really prepared in the slightest. It'll be a while for things to perhaps work out, but I believe it'll be worth it in the long run. So can we try again as friends?"

Myrcella wanted to comment about that tidbit. She had been somewhat prepared for such an arrangement for most of her life. She learned everything she needed to become a proper lady of her stature. It was a lady's duty, much less a princess.

She was even prepared to marry someone... someone who may not be the best for her. Yet she was given the greatest option she could ever imagine ever since that fateful announcement back at the Twins.

Roxas wanted to learn about her as a person instead of being a princess. He wants to make her happy; even if the situation for the duration of that time was not ideal.

After how she viewed her parents, she doesn't want to spend the rest of her life in a marriage she didn't want to be a part of. She didn't want to just be a political tool. Having no real love, no freedom at all. Only having despair.

As much as she'd want to voice it, she chose not.

After all, she was starting to feel happy on what she's hearing right now.

"I'd like that." Said the blonde Baratheon. "I'd like that very much."

Roxas gave her a small smile and he reached behind him and pulled out a blue ice cream bar.

"Oh?" Myrcella chortled. "What's this?"

"A treat. Try it."

She reached out with curiosity taking hold of it. It seemed dainty as she awkwardly held it between the fingers of her one hand. She looked at her betrothed beside her and saw him slowly lick and bite into it.

With little hesitation, Myrcella took the first lick. She recoiled a little upon feeling the cold feeling on her oral appendage. Glancing back to Roxas, he kept licking and eating the treat and saw no issue coming from him.

Glancing back, her eyes landed on the object before her before she tasted it once more.

"It tastes… odd." She commented. "What is it exactly?"

"Sea-salt ice cream."

"That's a funny name."

"It is, isn't it?" Roxas took another bite of his own bar. "But it is my favorite."

She said no more as she slowly ate more of the cold treat alongside him.

It was unique and an odd rarity. So she savored every bite, every lick. Even as it started to dribble down, her tongue quickly caught the dribblets.

By the time she was finished consuming the ice cream, Myrcella oddly wished she had more.

"We should get going. Your mother still wants dinner with you." He said standing up, still chewing on the popsicle stick.

Myrcella nodded as she rose from her seat. "Could you perhaps join us?" She asked.

Roxas only nodded as he held out his hand towards her. She gently took hold of it as he escorted her to where her mother was presently at.

-Vaes Dothrak-

"Rakh! Rakh! Rakh haj!"

"Rakh! Rakh! Rakh haj!"

"Khalakka dothrae!"

Chanting echoed within a massive tent, which served as a temple for the Dothraki.

With her reaching this stage of her pregnancy, Dany had to finally take part of the ceremony with the Dosh Khaleen which would determine the sex and possible legacy of her child. While the surrounding Dothraki gave out their usual chants as they watched the procession, the Dosh Khaleen recited prayers.

From what they were told, the crones who make up the Dosh Khaleen can peer into the future. A gift granted to them by their Great Stallion.

Amongst the crowd, Xion watched Dany eat the heart of a stallion. It's supposed to help make the unborn baby strong and swift, or so the Dothraki believed. But only if the mother could eat it all.

Blood stained the Targaryen girl's face, hands and most of her clothing as she was steadily chomping down on the severed organ. With the law of no steel being drawn and used within the sacred confines of Vaes Dothrak, Dany had to rip the heart with her teeth and nails.

"She has to eat the whole heart?" Asked Viserys as he stood beside Ser Jorah and Xion.

Though Xion's visage was stoic, internally she was squirming from head to toe at the sight of such a grotesque ritual.

'Does she have to eat a stupid heart raw?' Xion internally questioned before answering Viserys.

"Every last bit." Responded No. i. "If Dany chokes on the blood or retches up what she ate, her child might be stillborn, weak, deformed or a girl… for some odd reason, which I find insulting."

"It is their belief, Xion." Jorah commented.

Viserys was merely disgusted with the present event. "I hope that wasn't from my horse."

Xion rolled her eyes. 'Of course you'd be concerned about that instead of your own sister.'

She could see sweat beading down Dany's exposed skin, due to how humid it was this day. It made things a tad more difficult for her friend on her present task. Instead of water, she had to consume blood with the raw heart.

The Keybearer actually felt queasy on witnessing her friend going through this ceremony. And she wished the horse heart could've been cooked first to make things easier. But she had to put on a brave face for her sake.

"She's doing well." Said Jorah.

"She'll never keep it down." Said Viserys.

"She'll do it, I know she can." Said Xion.

Throughout this procession, Dany switched her gaze between her husband and best friend. Drogo had one of pride while Xion had one of encouragement.

With the drive and determination, Dany kept on eating.

The chanting started getting louder with the Dosh Khaleen becoming more energetic in their prayers.

"Tell me what they're saying." Viserys demanded out of curiosity.

Jorah was the one to answer as he began translating. "The prince is riding. I have heard the thunder of his hooves, swift as the wind he rides. His enemies will cower before him… and their wives will weep tears of blood."

"She's gonna have a boy." Xion finished off. "Or so they say."

Viserys merely glanced at them both. "He won't be a real Targaryen. He won't be a true dragon."

Xion and Jorah rolled their eyes at this.

The trio and everyone else within the ceremony tent watched on as Dany finished eating the last morsel of the horse heart. She seemed fine at first, but then something didn't sit well as she began to gag.

A heavy silence filled the tent as Dany lurched forward and landed on all fours.

Out of worry, Xion stepped forward to check on her, but stopped when the Targaryen princess regained her composure, fought to keep down what she ate down her throat and slowly rose back up.

After coughing for a few moments, Dany steadily breathed as she was finally able to complete her task in the ceremony, much to her audience's anticipation.

The leading member of the Dosh Khaleen began speaking once again. And before Viserys had the chance to ask what she said, Jorah quickly translated.

"The Stallion who Mounts the World. The Stallion is the Khal of Khals. He shall unite the people under a single khalasar. All the people of the world will be his herd."

Xion had heard this proclamation had been done hundreds of times. The Dothraki thought the particular child is the prophesied "stallion" or perhaps the father of said "stallion". And if the child were to die beforehand through circumstances, the people believed "it wasn't his time" or "the world isn't ready for his greatness".

Rising to her feet, Dany spoke in Dothraki. "Khalakka Dothrae Mr'anha!"

Dany had practiced that phrase for days. In the common tongue, it means 'a prince rides inside me'.

"And he shall be called Rhaego!" Said the Targaryen girl, naming her soon to be son.

Xion frowned a little on the name, knowing of the significance of who the child is mostly named after.

The male child needed to be strong and fierce with a proper name to go with them. Usually honoring a warrior long since passed. And it seemed Dany decided to have the child be named after her eldest brother.

At first, Xion didn't have much of a problem with Prince Rhaegar, until learning of what he did to ignite the War of the Usurper. So the decision was rather questionable in the Nobody's mind.

'It's Dany's right to name the child, not mine.' Thought Xion as she shook her head. 'Even if I can't really think of any good names to begin with.'

Every Dothraki within the ceremony tent began chanting "Rhaego" as Drogo walked up to his wife, lifted her up and spun her around with a mighty grin on his face.

Viserys looked all over and saw how everyone practically gathered around her and seemed to worship her.

"They love her." He muttered out in utter jealousy.

Jorah looked on as Drogo brought his pregnant wife back down. In mere moments, she was tackled and hugged by Xion who congratulated her soon after.

The exiled Mormont knows now that Daenerys will be escorted to the nearby lake dubbed "The Womb of the World" so she may wash herself clean from the stallion's blood. It was believed in the first civilization, man emerged from it's depths and began spreading across the known world. And it will be from those waters will the Targaryen princess be finally considered a true Khaleesi.

The Westerosi knight stepped forward to congratulate Daenerys as well, but had noticed something was off. Looking beside him, he no longer saw Viserys within the tent.

He soon had an irking suspicion where he went to now.

Making his way through the pathways, Jorah soon made it to Daenerys' tent. Pushing against the flap, he saw Viserys was basically robbing his sister's belongings. Amongst the items was shoving one of the petrified dragon eggs into a sack.

When the Targaryen "king" finally noticed Jorah's presence, he quickly unsheathed his sword.

"Don't let them see you carry a drawn sword in Vaes Dothrak. You know the law."

Viserys merely sneered as he sheathed his sword. "It's not my law." He said as he put the two remaining eggs in his bag.

"Those don't belong to you."

"What is her's is also mine."

"Once, perhaps."

Viserys turned to his "sworn sword" with a glare. "If I sell one egg, I'll have enough to buy a ship and a proper crew. Two eggs, a ship and an army."

"And you have all three."

Dragon eggs have long since been considered extremely valuable, both before the last dragon perished to when they all became petrified. While they're more than stones now, they are truly worth their weight in gold. The most a single egg was able to bring was that of a small castle keep.

"I need a large army."

"And where would you get such an army?"

"I can think of a number of places." Said the Targaryen. "The Second Sons… Stormcrows… The Golden Company-"

"They'd rather kill you than take you as their employer; given who you are, Viserys."

"Their representatives were civil with me as we feasted together once. They even laughed at my jokes. When I find them next, we shall work out a contract once I sell them two eggs on top of an official pardon."

"I doubt that."

After fleeing into exile, Jorah had traveled around Essos and had eventually become a member of the Golden Company. They welcomed him as they often take in exiled Westerosi and sons of exiles. And after years working and fighting with them -not to mention learning so much about them- he was able to leave the sellsword company on good terms.

It was only later on did he get approached with a proposed offer. And months passed on by did he wind up in Pentos where he soon came under the Targaryen siblings' service.

When he was still a member of the company, Jorah heard a tale from a captain and lieutenant once they returned from Braavos to collect their payment from the Iron Bank. During their time there, they stayed at the Sea Lord's palace for a day as honored guests where they had run into the Targaryen siblings.

Viserys indeed sought their services and the young prince believed he did a good job in convincing the company's representatives to sign him on.

Unfortunately for him, that wasn't the case at all.

The Golden Company was created by Bittersteel and had forever swore to fight against the Targaryens while forever supporting the Blackfyres no matter what. The only reason why the captain and lieutenant didn't kill Viserys and Daenerys back then was due to them honoring guest rights while staying within the Sea Lord's home.

Not to mention what jokes Viserys spoke of… the captain and lieutenant weren't laughing with him, they were laughing at him.

Viserys harrumphed soon after when seeing Jorah's reaction. "If I can't get them, then I might as well fulfill the contract with the Dornish."

"...Excuse me?"

This was certainly something Jorah didn't expect to hear at all.

"Apparently I've been promised to wed Princess Arianne Martell when I make my return with an army." Viserys revealed. "She becomes my queen and I get fifty thousand fighters for the start of my campaign to reclaim my birthright."

"And what makes you believe this apparent contract exists." Mormont challenged, a fierce glare in his eyes.

"Some Martell representatives came to Braavos years ago and signed it alongside Ser Willem Darry prior to him falling ill. Never knew who the Dornishman was, but they have a copy of the contract safely tucked away in Sunspear."

Jorah's eyes narrowed as he was processing this new piece of information.

"I don't care if you believe me or not, Mormont, but I'm the last hope of a dynasty and I need everything I can to revitalize it. The greatest dynasty this world has ever seen on my shoulders since I was five years old. And no one has ever given me what they gave to her in that tent. Never. Not a piece of it."

'They love her because she worked and earned it… unlike some people.' Thought Jorah.

"How can I carry what I need to carry without it? Hmm? Who can rule without wealth or fear or love?" Asked Viserys as he walked up rather close to the exiled knight. "Oh, you stand there, all nobility and honor. You don't think I see you looking at my little sister or her companion, hmm? Don't think I know what you want?"

"You clearly don't know what I want." Jorah said silently as his eyes began to narrow.

"I honestly don't care. You can have them both. Daenerys can be queen of the savages and Xion being her loyal whore, who both dine on the finest, bloody horse parts and you can dine on whatever parts of them you like. But let me go."

Viserys moved to leave but Jorah got in his way and stopped him. "You can go. But you can't have the eggs."

"You swore an oath to me. Does loyalty mean nothing to you?"

"It means everything to me."

"And yet here you stand."

"And yet here I stand." Jorah spoke proudly and defiantly.

Seeing Jorah wasn't going to budge, Viserys dropped the bag and was able to properly storm past the Westerosi without any further issue.

If Jorah was to look back to see him leave, he would've seen a series of dark wisps emanating off of Viserys' form.

With Viserys gone, the Mormont reached for the bag and went to put them back where they belonged.

As he did, the exiled knight thought about a few things.

In a sad way, Jorah felt a tad bit of sympathy towards Viserys. The Targaryen prince was considered the "last" hope of his family legacy as he bore this mighty weight on his shoulders. All these hopes, dreams and duty was thrusted upon him ever since he and his freshly born sister were smuggled out of Dragonstone all those years ago at the end of Robert's Rebellion.

...It was rather unfortunate that Mormont didn't possess more sympathy towards Daenerys' brother, due to him acting like a complete bastard and a spoiled man-child. With his obsession of perhaps being seen as a "dragon", Viserys might as well be a second Aerion Brightflame with his attitude.

Then came the factor of Viserys' supposed alliance with the Martells.

Yes the Dornish can supply the strength the Targaryen prince desired. Both have the motive of seeking vengeance against both House Baratheon and Lannister for what they've done. The Targaryen dynasty was toppled, humiliated, wrecked and replaced with a new one while Princess Elia Martell and her children were slain in the most brutal manner. The respective parties would do well in their union, bolster their forces and get what they both crave in the end.

If this were the case, then why didn't the Martells help the Targaryen siblings?

If they want to be sure the pact would work, they could've had agents keeping an eye on them as they grew up… like what he's been doing now. Yet the siblings received no help ever since they were forced to leave Braavos when their guardian -Ser Williem Darry- died and were booted out of the Sea Lord's palace. Scouring for food and living day by day in order to survive until they were found and brought into Illyrio's care at Pentos just last year.

Things weren't adding up here and didn't make much sense as he thought more on the issue.

'I've heard of Prince Doran being a precautious man, but I find this ridiculous.' Jorah internally commented as he left the Khaleesi's tent so he may return to the others.

-The Eyrie-

Bronn stayed at a couple dozen castle keeps throughout his life. Only a day or so at minimum, perhaps a fortnight at most; all due to him taking care of a number of jobs throughout the kingdoms. The rest of the time were either in tents, taverns or somewhere underneath a tree or a hedge.

If he weren't pressing his luck on wandering the roads, he'd keep an ear out on the local gossip. Conflicts needing to be resolved by the regional lords and ladies, tourneys about to take place, bodyguard and escort services. As long as there's coin to be earned, he'd take up on the opportunities just like any sellsword out there.

And if he were to be honest, the Eyrie was perhaps a decent place to sleep and dine at. It was his first time here after all. Perhaps one of the top five or so.

There was one castle keep which was far better. If Bronn recalled it correctly, it was in Dorne when he first started out in his profession. It was for a tourney at Yronwood where he was able to win the archery competition.

As a champion, he was able to stay at a really good guest quarters. He slept in quite the comfortable bed with nice silk sheets with an equally comfortable bed warmer on the rare, extra cold Dornish night. In a way, it left a great impression and set the bar high.

Here, it was quite windy last night, somewhat keeping him from peacefully sleeping. This made things a bit chilly, despite the amount of furs he slept in. Other than that, it was relatively alright.

After having his fill of food this morning, Bronn could've left soon after. He was already paid for his services in escorting Lady Catelyn and Lord Tyrion to the Eyrie. He could head off when possible so he may seek selling his sword elsewhere, but Bronn decided to stay a while.

It wasn't due to him perhaps wanting to seek employment with the Arryns. The thought had crossed his mind -albeit barely- but with how bratty and loud Robin Arryn was, he fought a great urge to either skewer the twerp or throw him down the Moon Door.

No, this was due to curiosity. That and partial boredom.

Bronn wanted to see how the upcoming trial could turn out. He did hear the Imp of House Lannister had a knack of talking himself out of a number of situations.

The sellsword did get bored at one point, thought 'screw this' and sought to leave when the announcement of Tyrion wanting to confess his crimes came around later today.

When he got to the High Hall at the "appointed time", Bronn saw an assembly of servants, high born, knights and a number of others to bear witness this event. He spotted Ser Rodrik Cassel standing some feet away from him. Even the Knight at the Gate -the Lord Blackfish- was here as well as he stood nearby his nieces and grandnephew on the highrise. And at the center of it all was Lord Tyrion, whose arms were presently chained and stood in front of the Moon Door so he may face his punishment.

'No wonder why it took so bloody long to get this trial underway.' Was the sellsword's thought. 'Lady Arryn wanted an audience.'

From what he heard by Lady Catelyn Stark's own words earlier today, this was a Fool's Festival. In a way, she's right. Single lords, knights and courtiers merely came here seeking to wed and bed Lady Lysa and rule the Vale by her side. All the while they and just about most of the Vale were present to watch a mockery of a trial.

Bronn rolled his eyes in annoyance on the subject.

Justice is a funny thing for the poor. It's what keeps them alive and starving, depending on how the local lod feels about his territory and property. For the rich, justice is what you get if you're not careful enough or rich enough.

Usually how it works is you commit a crime and the local lord sends his guards after you or your victim's family kills you and the guards go after them instead or you do nothing and the guards come after you anyway. Either way, someone is brought before the lord/lady and they decide what's to be done. It could be a fine you're rich enough to pay. Otherwise it's the dungeons, the chopping block, or the Wall.

You'd think most folks would choose the Wall. The North is nasty, dark and cold, but so are most dungeons and every man knows how the Night's Watch earn their name; all they can do is watch.

Bronn certainly didn't blame the men who choose a quick chop rather than life without one of it's few joys.

If you're in the capital, it's the King's Justice who takes your head. Elsewhere in the south, the headsman of the local lord. But in the North, it's the lord himself.

'The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword.' Bronn thought in remembrance. 'Sounds noble but I still think most of the Northern lords just don't want to spoil their fun in lopping a man's head.'

Bronn didn't need a reminder with what the Valemen do on most of their sentencing, especially here at the Eyrie. Either the Sky Cells or the Moon Door, just so they don't have to exactly clean up the mess on the person's death. Let nature do the work for them.

'To think, Lord Tyrion was in those damn cells.' Bronn thought with shuddering distaste.

The sounds of tapping were heard in the hall as Robin was banging his metal toy against the ancient weirwood throne of House Arryn.

A migrain was slowly creeping its way into Bronn's head by this point.

'Little shit doesn't know restraint and discipline, even if he was taught the damn words.'

When his eyes gazed at the highrise, Bronn could see the look of annoyance on Lord Blackfish's face. Lady Catelyn had a controlled, boiling expression which at any moment now she just wanted to smack her bratty nephew and give a number of choice words to get him obedient. And Lady Lysa… damn woman is doing nothing but sitting on her ass with a smile.

'I swear she must be getting off right now.' Was Bronn's thought.

Soon enough, the smile Lysa Arryn bore shifted to a frown as she composed herself and halted her son from "playing" with his one toy.

"You are here to confess to your crimes?" She asked while glaring down at Tyrion.

"Yes, my lady. I do."

Lysa's eyes narrowed further before smirking. 'The Sky Cells always break them.' She thought before speaking in an arrogant, haughty tone. "Speak, Imp. Meet your Gods as an honest man."

The attendees of this "Fool's Festival" paid close attention, wanting to see what Tyrion would say exactly.

"Where do I begin?" Tyrion spoke in a faux guilty manner. "My lords and ladies, I confess I am a vile man. My crimes and sins are beyond counting. I have lied and cheated, gambled and whored. I'm not particularly good at violence, but I'm good at convincing others to do violence for me. But I suppose you want specifics."

Tyrion thought for a moment to collect the details. "When I was seven I saw a servant girl bathing in the river. I stole her robe. She was forced to return to the castle naked and in tears. If I close my eyes, I can see her tits bouncing."

This earned a couple of gasps of disgust and embarrassment while Bronn had a smirk crawling up his lips.

"When I was ten, I stuffed my uncle's boots with goatshit. When confronted with my crime, I blamed a squire. Poor boy was flogged and I escaped justice. When I was twelve, I milked my eel into a pot of turtle stew." This earned more gasps from the audience while Bronn snorted, especially when Tyrion did the harsh hand motions of him jacking off. "I flogged the one-eyed snake. I skinned my sausage. I made the bald man cry, into the turtle stew, which I do believe my sister ate. At least I hope she did."

The gasps soon turned into bits of laughter from the audience as this went on.

"I once brought a jackass and a honeycomb into a brothel-"

"SILENCE!" Yelled out Lady Arryn, who harshly rose from the Weirwood throne.

Leaning forward, her only child spoke with an inquiry. "What happened next?"

If there was one thing Bronn honestly could be in a form of agreement with, the little brat was indeed wanting to know where this one joke was going. He, like many in attendance, were already riled up on the "confession" and wanted to hear more.

Lysa silenced her son before she harshly glared at the dwarf. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Confessing my crimes." Innocently said the Lannister.

"That isn't the one we all wish to hear, Imp." Sneered Lysa. "You are here on your crime against my husband. Your crime of murdering the Hand of the King."

Tyrion did look innocent at that point. "I'm sorry, but truly, I didn't do anything to him."

Lysa looked irate. "You've had your little joke. I trust you enjoyed it, because it just bought you a return visit to the Sky Cells."

This got Tyrion to snap. "Is this how justice is done in the Vale? You accuse me of a crime with no evidence made outside of your word, Lady Arryn." He gazed around towards the audience and addressed them. "I never was able to present my case before I was graciously sent into a Sky Cell. I deny such a claim and I'm about to be sent there once more to freeze and starve? Where's the King's Justice in that? I am accused and demand a proper trial! Not this farce!"

The retinue of lords, ladies, knights and other witnesses began murmuring amongst each other with a number of them agreeing with Tyrion's statement.

Not wanting this to proceed further on placing doubt on herself, Lysa spoke up. "If you're tried and found guilty, then by the king's own laws you will pay with your life."

"I understand the law."

"And just as a reminder, we have no executioner in the Eyrie. Only the Moon Door." She said, soon gesturing to a nearby servant to open up the infamous spot in the floor.

The cranks echoed throughout the High Hall as Robin Arryn gleefully clapped as he was going to enjoy this.

From nearby, Rodrik Cassel, Catelyn Stark and Bryden Tully looked on in concern at young Robin's excitement.

A mighty gust of air swept into the hall, with Tyrion receiving a good amount of it once the Moon Door was fully opened. He briefly gazed inside to see the 600 ft drop to the earth below, making him step back out of reflex.

"You want a trial, my Lord Lannister. Very well." Said the Lady of the Vale. "My son will listen to whatever you have to say, and you will hear his judgement. Then you will leave… by one door or the other."

By many who are witnessing this, they more or less know that Robin's judgement is all guided by his mother's actions.

"No need to bother, Lord Robin. I demand a Trial by Combat."

From the corner of the hall Bronn stood, he looked on in mild interest as he wondered how this could proceed.

With Tyrion being highborn, with his family going back hundreds of years, he indeed had the right of Trial by Combat. Either he himself can fight his accuser or their champion or he can get someone else to do it for him to fight for their behalf. And from there, the gods will favour the "righteous man"... as long as he's also the strongest, the quickest or the luckiest.

At least it wasn't going to be a Trial by Seven, in which both sides get seven fighters to combat against each other. Only happens if both parties were highborn shits with either of them might be fool enough demanding such a thing.

How it ends revolves around either one side being completely defeated, the accuser withdrawing their accusation or the one accused admitting to the crime.

Last time such a thing happened nearly a century ago at the Tourney of Ashford Meadow. If Bronn were able to remember correctly, it involved the future Kingsguard Commander, Ser Dunkan the Tall, who was forced into the Trial by Seven due to Prince Aerion Brightflame. Involved some Dornish woman being attacked by the Targaryen shitlord and the hedge knight beat the snot out of him in response.

In the end, Ser Dunkan was cleared of all charges after he defeated Aerion Brightflame and forced the accusation withdrawal out of him in front of the captive spectators.

Everything was fine and dandy, until Prince Baelor Breakspear -who fought on Dunkan's side- died as he got the back of his head smashed in by his younger brother, the future King Maekor. And since that day, the man was labeled as a kinslayer, all because he couldn't admit the fact his first son was a spoiled bastard and sought to defend him.

Regardless, whatever happens with justice being served often depends on the judge presiding over the issue here in Westeros. Begging for forgiveness and suffering humiliation and scorn, paying the fine or taking the Black are more or less the only options a person can take. And often than not, the judge could so happen to decide to not give any of those options, depending on their mood and the situation in question.

Lysa became irritated once more as she bit back a growl. "You have that right."

A knight of the Vale stepped forward. "My lady, I beg the honor. Let me be your champion."

"The honor should be mine." Said another Valeman. "For the love I bore your lord husband, let me avenge his death."

"I'll fight for you, my lady."

"I'll be my honor."

"The honor should be mine."

Tyrion found it disheartening to realize so many knights were eager to kill him. This might not have been the wisest plan after all.

"Make the bad man fly!" Robin demanded impatiently.

His bratty yell silenced the High Hall, yet again making things awkward on a few fronts.

"Ser Vardis, you are being awfully quiet." Lysa Arryn pointed out to one of the better knights in the Vale. "Don't you wish to avenge my husband? You were his right hand."

"With all my heart, my lady." Said Ser Vardis as he took the knee. "But the Imp is half my size and lame in the legs. It would be shameful to slaughter such a man and call it justice."

Bronn snorted once more. 'If you see him with an axe or a shield, you probably think otherwise.' He thought, recollecting what skirmishes they went through to get here.

"I agree." Voiced Tyrion.

"You demanded a Trial by Combat." Lysa reminded the Lannister.

"And now I demand a champion. I have that right, same as you."

This got Ser Vardis to rise as he voiced his agreement. "My lady, I'll gladly fight the Imp's champion for you."

"I wouldn't be too glad, Ser." Spoke the Imp. "I name my brother, Jamie Lanniser."

Whispers and murmurs plagued the High Hall with how worried many started to become. After all, the member of the Kingsguard was one of the best fighters the Seven Kingdoms has to offer.

"The Kingslayer is hundreds of miles from here." Commented Lysa.

"Send a raven to him. I'm happy to wait." Said Tyrion with a hint of smugness in his voice.

"No! The trial will be today."

Tyrion's smile turned into a frown as he soon gazed around the High Hall.

"Do I have a volunteer?"

Several knights laughed since they knew the Imp didn't have a chance on his own and no one here wanted to be his champion.

Well… no one native to the Vale.

Presently in the High Hall, three men were actually planning on stepping forward.

When he heard of Tyrion being imprisoned in the Sky Cells, Bryden rushed over here. The Riverland knight wanted to slap some sense into his youngest niece in more ways than one. After chatting with his eldest niece, Rodrik Cassel and the Imp on their way to the Giant's Lance, the Blackfish saw Tyrion was only roped into the situation due to wrongful circumstances. While he's innocent of harming his great nephew, Bran, it's quizzical if the Lannister is indeed true on other concerns.

With this Trial by Combat, the Knight at the Gate sought to be the Imp's champion. He has the name, reputation and power to help back his claim. Not to mention he still worked his bloody ass to still be in top shape instead of lazing about like other knights out there.

Like the Blackfish, Rodrik Cassel knew this folly of a trial was going nowhere and sought to end it. And if a Trial by Combat was necessary, he will do what needs to be done. He's a capable fighter and has been getting some amount of fighting for some time now to brush off the dust and rust off his sword.

He more or less believes someone from House Lannister was the cause of Jon Arryn's death, along with who pushed Bran off the Broken Tower. He's even more convinced on the idea of Prince Joffrey sending the catspaw assassin to kill Catelyn's boy. If Rodrik were to die, he would at least die knowing Tyrion Lannister was innocent on both charges.

And there was Bronn. He knew the Lannisters always pay their debts, no matter what. He'll get a decent reward for his service once he defeats Ser Vardis. He wasn't arrogant, he knew it to be fact. Afterall, Valemen were heavily prideful on their honor and it often leads to their downfall. For honor doesn't fit well in the heat of battle as it's life or death. And Bronn planned to exploit that.

After this Trial by Combat was done and over with, Bronn will seek his services with the Imp. He will need a guarded escort back through the High Road with those Hill Tribesmen and Heartless and thereafter, which could turn into a long run contract.

Yet before either man could voice in being the Imp's champion, someone else beat them to it.

"I'll fight for him." said a voice unrecognizable to all within the hall and from seemingly nowhere.

Many searched for the one who spoke this.

It didn't take long for the man to appear as he was standing on the second level of the High Hall.

"I said, I'll fight for him."

Looking upward, Catelyn and Ser Rodrik were quick to recognize him.

"Cloud?" Muttered the Lady of Winterfell.

Ser Bryden Tully turned to his eldest niece and wondered how she knew this person just like a few others from nearby in overhearing her.

No doubt many answers will be given soon enough.

-The Great Hall of the Red Keep-

Through the high narrow windows of the Red Keep's cavernous throne room, the light of sunset spilled across the floor, laying dark red stripes upon the walls where the heads of dragons once hung. Now the stone was covered with hunting tapestries, vivid with greens and browns and blues, and yet still it seemed to many people the only color in the hall was the red of blood.

Within this very room, Ned had to admit that Robert was right about one thing, he hated sitting on the Iron Throne.

There were so many things he hated about this grotesque piece of furniture. The material being a few hundred swords, melted by dragonfire and crafted by a dozen smiths to hammer it all into shape to fit the desired design of Aegon the Conqueror. The story on how it was eventually created through death and violence of countless people through battle in order to unite the land.

Not to mention how bloody uncomfortable it was sitting on it.

Yes he knows about the original intention on the throne the Conqueror did of making it uncomfortable; a constant reminder to not be too comfy with the power. It's rather unfortunate a number of rulers never bothered to keep that to heart as it led to their downfall.

Ned wished he could've at least put a pillow under him at least. Yet he couldn't as it would've been a "work around" on the intended symbolism.

But at least Ned gets to do things "his" way until Robert returns from his hunt. He basically struggled while working under Robert with his power as Hand limited, but now he might as well get full capacity and full might on the rights and justice for those who deserve it.

Sort of like his ancestor Cregan Stark during the Dance of the Dragons. Coming down and demanding to be Hand of the King to dispense the needed justice across the Seven Kingdoms and be done with it.

Now if only he were to resign as he did -after just for one day- and not be bothered anymore afterwards.

Grand Maester Pycelle, Petyr Baelish, Varys and even Roxas were presently sitting or standing on each side of the Iron Throne as they were assisting on the meetings with the common folk today. There would've been more in attendance, yet they were dragged away into Robert's hunt.

Aside from his squire, Renly and Ser Barristan; the king had dragged along Prince Joffrey, Sandor Clegane, Ser Balon Swann, and practically half the court. Robert had requested Roxas to come with him for the hunt, a means of spending more time with his future good-son. Yet the blonde Nobody politely declined as he was more needed in the capital than doing a simple hunt.

The usual happenings and goings with petitioners who arrive here merely wanted to either settle disputes or make certain requests with the Crown.

This wasn't any different with what Ned had dealt with when he was back in the North. He grew accustomed to it once taking Winterfell's seat, being thoughtful and working with what he had towards the petitioners. Whether it be farmers, lesser lords or merchants of varying practices. All was the same for him to resolve and carry out his decrees as acting ruler of the realm.

And then… something else occurred.

"Are you certain of this?" Ned's voice was steady, strong. Easily heard for all present within the hall.

"I am." Said a commoner, who knelt before the steps leading up to the Iron Throne. "They burned so much in the Riverlands: our fields; our granaries; our homes. They even… They took our loved ones as well. Practically butchered and slew them as if they were animals. We didn't even have anything left to bury 'em."

Behind this man, who started to weep from the painful memories, were a couple dozen others who were also from the Riverlands. Small folk, knights and even a few holdfast lords. All alike being tattered, bloodied and emanating fear.

"And what of House Tully?" Asked Ned Stark. "Have they been helping out on the situation?"

"They are overwhelmed as they are, your grace-"

"It's the King's Hand you're addressing, not the king." Interrupted Pycelle. "The king is presently hunting."

Ned ignored the "royal" title at this time. He didn't want to try and correct the poor man who went through so much. Aside from this, it wouldn't be the first time a commoner would mistake placing such a grander title onto him and others.

For instance Ned had been called "your grace" a number of times by the smallfolk ever since Robert left for his hunt. To them, if one sat on the Iron Throne, they were the ruler and nothing else. They didn't know the present political occupants in court, only the basics and their courtesies.

Roxas coughed a little, drawing some attention towards him. "You said House Tully was overwhelmed, right? How so?"

Ser Raymun Darry stepped forward so he may give a better answer than one of the smallfolk. "Lord Edmure Tully has been sending out many of his men to assist and protect everyone they can. Yet they've been stretched thin, given these creatures roaming and raiding our lands. I come here to implore you for the Crown's help to vanquish these demons. We all beg of you."

Ned, Roxas and several others can already feel the unease in the hall, from high lords to servants strained to listen. One could not pretend to be surprised, given how quickly the chaos the Heartless and even the Unversed have spread as of late.

Their present numbers are unknown, yet incalculable.

"Riverrun's strength is no doubt bleeding because of this." Said Littlefinger.

"They don't have the proper necessities and equipment for the job." Said Roxas.

"All they could do is barely hold them back." Added in Varys. "Those poor protectors."

"All they're really doing is presenting themselves for the slaughter."

The Keybearer could only glare at Baelish for his comment, even if it were true.

"There was… something else…"

This drew the attention of Roxas, the present Small Council members and many others within the chamber.

"Something else?" Asked Ned.

"Yes, my lord. A message." the commoner looked to Ser Raymun Darry who held a burlap brown bag in hand that appeared to be shifting about every now and then.

The Knight stepped forward though it was clear for many to see he was nervous.

He held the bag forward, almost hesitating to reveal whatever it was that resided within and this momentary pause set Roxas on edge.

His hand briefly opened up in preparation to call forth one of his Keyblades as Sey Ramun slowly unlaced the rope that kept the bag closed. Once off, the Riverland knight dumped the contents, letting it tumble to the marble floor for all to see.

Shocked gasps, screams of fright and many fair maidens fainted upon seeing what it was.

Roxas immediately jumped from his spot and landed before the creature that stared up at him with the Nobody wielding his Oblivion Keyblade.

It looked similar to a Crescendo Heartless, yet it bore the Unversed emblem on it's belly. It's red eyes were slanted downwards with it's gramophone-like mouth being copper in color instead of gold.

"Dear gods! You brought one in here! Are you mad?!" Baelish cried out in genuine shock.

Ever since the arrival of the Unversed and Heartless, not a single one of them had ever entered the Red Keep. No one knew how or why. Some thought it was some ancient Targaryen magic placed here during its construction. Others speculated it was merely blessed by the Seven-who-are-One as a safe refuge just like the Sept of Baelor.

Whatever the case may be, not once did any foul, darkened creature step foot within these very walls.

That is until today.

"We had no choice!" Said Ser Raymun Darry. "That masked man practically made us take it here or else he would slaughter again and leave the Riverlands as a ghostly ruin."

"Masked man?" Ned asked sharply.

"Did he control the creatures attacking the Riverlands?" No. XIII inquired.

"Yes, he did. He even wielded a weapon just like his." Said the Darry knight who pointed towards Roxas' Keyblade.

Roxas looked back and caught Ned's eye with both saying at the same time…

"Vanitas."

"Why would that mad man attack the Riverlands?" Baelish asked in genuine confusion. "What would he gain from such an attack?"

"Vanitas is a man who never does things without purpose." Eddard darkly stated. "In my encounters with him during the Rebellion, he had always sent in the Unversed as a means of causing chaos across the battlefield and absorbing the negative emotions to strengthen himself."

"That still doesn't explain his attack on the Riverlands." Varys spoke up. "Now of all times."

"It's the furthest from here while being centered in the middle of Westeros itself." Eddard mused aloud. "He can sow discontent and chaos, feeding off the emotions of fear to strengthen himself further knowing it would take time for many across the kingdom to respond to him in kind."

"But what of this message?" Varys asked. "I don't exactly see how-"

"Hello, hello. Is this thing on?"

Silence filled the Great Hall as many became still in an instant.

That voice…

"Where is he? How are we hearing him?" Pycelle asked in clear wonderment and terror.

Roxas merely stared at the Unversed before him. "From this."

From the creature's bronze mouth, the dark Keyblade wielder's voice could be heard. "Ah good, I can hear you loud and clear. How are you, Roxas?"

"What do you want, Vanitas?"

"Can't I just call and say hi?"

"You've got a sick means in doing so." Roxas snarled.

On the other end, Vanitas just laughed. "True. Having these commoners carry my impromptu messenger to the Red Keep all the way from the Riverlands. All with the drive of me threatening their loved ones is rather sick."

"What do you want?"

"Why, to see you again, of course." Vanitas bluntly admitted. "I had sooo much fun when you and I last saw each other and I just need it to happen again. I haven't had a rush like that in ages."

"Why not come back here to the capital and save yourself the trouble?" Roxas asked.

"And have to deal with a bunch of annoying pricks that would just get in the way? What do you take me for, a mass murderer?"

"Yes." was Roxas' flat response.

"...Fair enough." Vanitas conceded. "But now that you know, I'm calling you out Roxas. A rematch between you and me. Come to the Riverlands and find me."

"Find you?"

"I'm not gonna outright give you my exact location. I'll be bored if I stay in one spot for too long. I'd just wander all over until you show up." Roxas could practically see the annoying bastard rolling his eyes at him.

No. XIII could only glare at the Unversed that simply swayed there back and forth.

"As an incentive, I'll lay off unleashing my forces… to a degree."

"How can I be sure you won't backstab me and just ignore your own promise?"

"Heh~ smart." Vanitas' dark laugh reverberated off the walls of the throne room. "You're much more entertaining than Ventus was. Guess you really are different from him."

Before Roxas could say anymore, the messenger Unversed immediately disbursed and fled from the Great Hall.

Uneasy murmurs filled the space soon after. Many are wondering what may be done with Roxas being called out for battle in such a fashion.

Pycelle was the first to speak aloud. "He cannot leave the capital."

"He sadly must." Said Varys. "If not then more people will perish."

"Quite the conundrum we've been placed in." Petyr added in. "Roxas leaves and let the capital suffer from possible attacks. He stays and let the Riverlands burn even further. Either way, the realm suffers more."

"He is betrothed to the Princess, his place is here." Pycelle argued still. "She is a target-"

"My responsibilities override whatever betrothals I may have." Roxas countered, holding his Keyblade up. "So long as I have this, I need to be where I am most needed. And right now, that's the Riverlands."

The Grand Maester sputtered. "B-But Prince Roxas-"

"Do not call me that." No. XIII snapped angrily, causing many to recoil at the harshness in his tone.

Seeing many people warily stare at him, he sighed to recompose himself. "I haven't married Myrcella yet, so it's not fair to quickly jump to me having that title just yet. I mean, I haven't heard anyone call Sansa "princess" ever since her betrothal to Joffrey was announced. So why me?"

Ned found himself smiling slightly at the boy. Rather humble even if he can be a bit reckless at times.

So much like Ventus.

"The decision falls upon Lord Stark then." Varys said.

"It feels ceremonial honestly by this point." Ned stated outright. "How are any of us capable of stopping Roxas from going about his duty?"

None answered the Hand as he stood up from the Iron Throne.

"People of the Riverlands, Your plight is not only happening in your lands, but all over Westeros. North, South, East and West. I cannot give you back your homes or your crops, nor can I restore your dead to life. But I assure you, in the name of our king, you will get the justice you all deserve." Said Ned Stark before shifting his gaze to the Keybearer. "Roxas."

"Yes, Ned?"

"You shall have command. Assemble a hundred men and ride to Riverrun. Assist Lord Edmure Tully and his people."

"Thought you said it was pointless?" Roxas jokingly asked.

"Ceremonial, remember? As much as I would do the slaying personally, I am not as skilled and as strong as you are." The Lord Hand then spoke with a commanding voice. "In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, the First of his name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, I charge you with the king's justice to Vanitas. Capture him if you must, but take him down with all your might for I sentence him to death."

As this command was given, court had effectively ended for the day as many within the chamber left while others remained.

Ned went down to Roxas as the two walked side by side towards the exit of the Throne Room.

As they drew closer to the large doors, they were met by a number of individuals.

"Quite the speech, Lord hand." Thoros of Myr remarked with an amused smile.

"I feel I have to make it dramatic due to how things are conducted here." Was Ned's dry response.

"You manage to pull it off quite well, Lord Stark." Beric Dondarrian remarked. "I almost thought you were a King for a moment there."

The Stark merely hummed as he didn't want to really comment on that.

Roxas let out a soft sigh as he soon addressed the two men before him.

"Thoros. Beric. I know I'm asking much but-"

"You don't need to." Interrupted the Lightning Lord. "I was already planning on taking part."

"So am I." Said the Red Priest.

"You guys sure about that?" Roxas asked. "You do remember what it was like when I last faced Vanitas."

"We know full well that it will primarily be you to engage that monster." Beric said in a dark voice. "But shall at the very least work in ridding the plague of the Common folk. They need experienced fighters against these monstrosities."

"Will need more than just the two of you." Ned murmured, rubbing his chin in thought. "I wish Cloud would hurry back."

"Maybe we'll be able to meet him along the way." Roxas suggested.

"Who knows if you'll cross paths sooner or later." Ned stated.

"If you'll excuse us, we'll assist you in finding more volunteers." Beric said, patting Thoros on the shoulder.

"Not to mention assembling what goods we'll be needing to bring with us for the journey." Thoros said, eyes twinkling in mischief.

"Try not to make it primarily wine, ale and beer." Roxas said jokingly.

"Spoil sport." Thoros said in dramatic, false-disappointment.

The group of four split off in two pairs, Ned and Roxas walking down a corridor that led to a hallway that had a view of the city in all its glory.

"This is undoubtedly a trap, Roxas."

"I know." Murmured the Nobody. "But I can't sit by while the Riverlands are being attacked by the Heartless and Unversed. They're not like the North where they've got an advantage with magic."

"Perhaps you should take Jory with you." Ned suggested. "He's very much experienced in handling these monsters by now."

"Maybe." No. XIII pondered on this idea. "But he's the captain of your guard. Wouldn't you need him here?"

"Mayhaps but I would also know you would be in company that you trust."

The blond teen didn't respond, contemplating on his words.

Before the two could speak any further, someone from behind called out to the Nobody.

"Roxas." The blonde Nobody turned and saw Loras Tyrell approaching him. "Lord Stark."

"Ser Loras." Ned said with a nod, Roxas emulating the gesture.

The Knight of Flowers bowed slightly before looking at the blond of the two.

"If you'll have me, I beg you to let me take part in this task of hunting down Vanitas. I swear I shall not fail you." Loras declared with a fist of his heart.

This certainly surprised Roxas, looking at Ned who only had a look of steel directed at the youngest Tyrell son.

"What brought this about?" Roxas asked.

"What do you mean?" Loras scoffed. "A madman that threatens the lands is attacking the innocent. I am a Knight of the Seven Kingdoms. It is a knight's duty to uphold the King's Justice and protect the innocent."

"Ser Loras, you bore witness to the danger that Vanitas possesses." Ned spoke up. "Did your brother Garlan not forewarn you of the struggles he had without even combatting that mad bastard."

"I am well aware of the present danger but I insist, I must come." The Knight proclaimed.

Roxas however, shook his head. "Loras, if you were to come along, you would definitely be risking your life. Vanitas will play and mess you around before taking you out."

"I do not fear him." He said boastfully.

"Well you should." Roxas' voice was sharp and his glare more so.

Loras flinched at this and took a step back as Roxas walked towards him and roughly grabbed his shoulders and spun him around. He pointed over the Knight of Flowers off to the distance of a destroyed structure for all to see.

"That's what happened to the Dragon Pit after he and I fought." Roxas said in a dead serious voice. "I barely survived him."

Loras was spun back around to meet with Roxas' fierce gaze once again.

"Do not under any circumstances engage Vanitas alone." No. XIII warned. "You'll die faster than you even have a chance to blink. Do you understand me?"

A slow nod was the Tyrell's response.

Roxas calmed himself down as he gazed at the knight directly in the eyes.

"Look, I need you here in the capital. I won't be here to help protect it." Roxas stated. "Ned needs capable fighters on the streets and around the crownlands to fight the Heartless and Unversed and you're one of them. A few fighters who have fought these creatures are coming with me, some of the best. Some need to be here for the capital."

"You'll have your chance against these beasts, Ser Loras." Ned assured, placing a comforting hand upon the Tyrell's shoulder. "Be ready at a moment's notice. The Heartless and Unversed attack at random."

Loras gulped slightly at the intense gaze that was directed at him by the Warden of the North before nodding.

He turned to walk away from the two whilst Ned exhaled.

"Always the young, eager for battle."

"I'm young." Roxas said good naturedly.

"Yet you speak like you're four-and-ten." Eddard shot back with a wry grin.

"...I'm more mature than I look." Roxas said with a puff of his cheeks. "And you know it's easier to say forty."

Ned felt another feeling of nostalgia, vision flickering back to Harrenhal.

"Of course you are." Ned said with a laugh.

"That was quite the sight to witness."

Ned and Roxas saw Lewyn Martell approach them with a small smirk on his face.

"What is?"

"A prideful knight having to forgo their arrogance." Explained the Dornishman.

"Ser Loras will outgrow his disappointment in due time. He's just not experienced enough." Ned waved off.

"As is everyone."

Roxas picked up from there. "I know I've been helping him in the training yard. He's even assisted me on patrols to take care of the Heartless and Unversed. But Vanitas is a whole other degree of trouble."

"Loras is famous for his prowess, but it'll take a long time for it to be more than that so he may properly live up to his knightly title." Lewyn stated, tone conveying a greater degree of wisdom.

Around the time of the Andal Invasion on this World, the idea and concept of knighthood was conceived. The codes of conduct one with such title should live by; even when becoming a lord and a king. And with their religion, seven virtues were established to help represent their seven-pointed-star to a degree.

Generosity, Courtesy, Fellowship, Chastity, Justice, Mercy and Piety.

It helps define one's honor, for it's often their guiding light through the darkest of their journeys. But above all, it goes to show that chivalry isn't dead.

While the North doesn't have knights, or occupies a rare amount, they at least respect them to a certain degree. Especially on their codes of knighthood. And if they aren't real knights, either by lying or receiving the title from another knight or purchasing it through bribes, many hedge knights live by these codes.

Sadly not every knight lives up by these codes.

They adapt, toss around and interpret them very often; especially to certain people to get away with certain actions. Or they would just outright ignore them all together and labeled as a false knight.

One such example is the late Gregor Clegane -the Mountain who Rides- who was truly undeserving of being a knight due to his monstrous actions throughout his life.

Yet there have been more well known knights who were perhaps labeled as false. A damaging issue for one who is a part of the Kingsguard.

One being Ser Criston Cole who was the most controversial Kingsguard member in history, at least before Jamie Lannister killed his own king.

The Kingsguard member back then had slew a member of the Small Council, Master of Coin Lyman Beesbury, who argued to have Princess Rhaenyra crowned as queen to fully honor the freshly dead King Viserys' wishes.

No one knew of his exact motives. Some say he was ambitious, realizing Aegon II was a pliable fool while Rhaenyra was a strong and willful ruler. Others think it wasn't political, but personal due to his hatred towards Rhaenyra and her husband Daemon. And there were others who said it was just him defending the Andal custom of a son inheriting before a daughter.

Whatever the case may be, Ser Cole personally crowned Aegon II to start the Dance of the Dragons as he was swiftly named Hand of the King and was forever labeled as "the Kingmaker".

Roxas remembered a past discussion with Tywin Lannister, particularly the discussion of knightly honor.

On what the vows truly mean and the circumstance that one might face to test the values of the oaths that came with being a Knight.

Ventus was considered a true knight, even if he didn't receive the title. He was a guardian for the innocent. He fought and held the Unversed at bay.

And though he fought primarily for the forces of the Rebellion, he held great respect on both sides as he saved many lives from all.

One might wonder what a lad like Ven would have done had he been a knight of the Seven Kingdoms during the reign of the last Targaryen King.

Throughout the later years of the Mad King Aerys, members of his Kingsguard could only stand by and watch as he cruelly ordered the execution of people who crossed him or were accused of being traitors.

Lewyn had his reasons why he couldn't act out of turn, for his niece and her eventual children would be harmed in response. Yet his knightly brothers didn't.

Before Tywin left the capital, Roxas gave the Old Lion a proper correction on their previous discussion on the topic. One which the Lannister approved to a degree.

Honor and blind allegiance hampers rationality.

"Hey Ned, I forgot to show you this, but I do have some additional help that I got recently that can help in keeping the city safe." Roxas spoke up.

Ned blinked in surprise of such a reveal. "You have? Who?"

Roxas then appeared sheepish, confusing Lewyn and Ned.

"Uh, ya see, when I went up North I "ran" into some old… well, I wouldn't call them friends but let's just say they follow me and only me."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Just… don't freak out." Roxas said, raising a single hand and snapped his fingers once.

In a plumb of silvery smoke, a lanky Dusk appeared beside the Keybearer. And a Samurai followed soon after.

"Seven Hells." Lewyn's hand was on his sword and Ned stared at the Nobodies warily. It took him a moment to see that the symbol that each of these white-silvery beings had was not like the Heartless or the Unversed.

And Roxas had asked him to put his trust in him judging by how it would seem he was the one who called these new creatures here.

So at the very least, they would get the benefit of doubt.

"Roxas…" He said slowly. "What are these supposed to be?"

"Beings who followed me when I was a part of Organization XIII."

-The Eyrie-

"And who are you to fight for me, good ser?" Tyrion questions, still staring up at the swordsman in bewilderment.

"Someone who's getting annoyed with your questions." Cloud bluntly stated. "So just shut up and let me do this real quick."

"Good luck with that." Bronn said casually, picking at his fingernails with a dagger. "Little man likes to talk."

Tyrion gave the sellsword an unamused look before turning back to Cloud who had gone over to Catelyn Stark.

The blond swordsman went up the steps and stood right in front of Catelyn.

"Cloud?" Cat said, still surprised at seeing him here. "How in the World did you get here? Why are you even here?"

"Ned sent me to fix your fuck up with taking Tyrion without warning." Cloud bluntly told her, making her flinch and look down in shame.

Her Uncle Brynden who was standing next to her bristled and stepped forward.

"Do you know to whom you speak?" The Blackfish growled. "This is my niece-"

"And cause of her, a lot of crazy shit's gonna go down in the Seven Kingdoms." Cloud shot back, completely unfazed by this man's confrontation. "I'm here to make sure it doesn't come to that. Ned doesn't need any more grey hairs with how things are escalating."

"Uncle, he's right." Catelyn admitted. "Just let him do this for us."

"We were planning on releasing him, Cloud." Rodrick Cassel spoke up.

"Going to and doing it are two entirely different things, Cassel." Cloud retorted. "What were you even thinking?"

He didn't give them a chance to respond as he turned and walked away from them to rejoin Tyrion and Bronn.

Cloud would've really liked for the duel to happen right away when he declared his willingness to be Tyrion's champion. Yet Ser Vardis had to leave the High Hall so that he may get into his armor.

"Your name is Cloud, yes?" Tyrion asked. "I heard Lady Stark call you that upon your dramatic entry."

"It is."

"Strange name." The Lannister remarked.

"You'll find a lot of things about me are strange." Strife stated, crossing his arms as he waited patiently for Ser Vardis' return.

"Where are you even coming from, good ser?"

"First of all, not a knight." Cloud corrected. "And second, Ned sent me to unfuck the situation his wife fucked up."

Tyrion blinked upon hearing this. "You came all this way from King's Landing?"

The blond wolf nodded.

"How in the Seven Hells did you manage this?" Tyrion asked. "Better yet, how did you know we would come here of all places?"

Cloud shrugged. "Ned and I took a moment to deduce a possible place for Cat to take you and came to our conclusion being the Eyrie."

Tyrion leaned back in surprise upon hearing this. "You must have ridden night and day to reach here. Even then, more so in getting up the mountains undetected."

"I didn't ride here." Cloud stated. "Didn't take long to begin with. Bout a day with some change."

The Lannister imp blinked several times. "Begging your pardon, se- Cloud. Did you just say it only took you a day to get here?"

Cloud then shot the Imp a rare smirk. "Roxas isn't the only one in Westeros with special abilities."

At the mention of Roxas and knowing full well having seen the teen's capabilities, Tyrion's mouth dropped slightly upon hearing this.

It took him a moment to have some sort of idea of what to say and for someone like Tyrion, that was quite an accomplishment on Cloud's part.

"Well fuck me, you actually shut the little twat up." Bronn spoke up in a slight guffaw.

The Lannister ignored the jab and gazed upon Cloud with a growing sense of respect.

"I must say, I never would have expected such a notion from Lord Eddard himself."

"Ned has an unhealthy obsession of doing right by others." Cloud quipped though there was a clear sign of respect held in his tone.

"Starks always are a grim lot." Tyrion couldn't help but jape. "Yet through that grimness, they at least understand common decency it seems. I owe Ned Stark a great debt now even though his wife put me in this situation. And a Lannister always pays his debts."

"Just be sure the debt collector doesn't screw you over."

Tyrion merely gave a knowing nod in response as Ser Vardis made his return.

The Valeman was decked out in full plate armor as he wielded a long shield with the House Arryn sigil painted on its surface with his sheathed sword strapped to his side.

With his presence, the Trial of Combat would soon commence.

"Are you certain you do not need armor for this?" Tyrion couldn't help but ask.

"You do realize I fight Heartless like Roxas does." Was Cloud's response, effectively silencing any doubts the Lannister had.

If this Cloud fellow had even a fraction of the combat prowess of Roxas then really, Tyrion didn't have much to worry about.

This Trial by Combat would be over in an instant. He had that particular gut feeling it would.

A septon made his presence known as he soon gave the appropriate blessings onto the upcoming event. Saying his prayers for the Gods to give strength to the one whose cause was just. Even saying the prayer for the one who will perish and let their soul rest peacefully in the afterlife once being judged.

As this went on, Catelyn Stark watched on with a number of emotions plaguing her.

A memory of another duel soon came to her, as vivid as if it had been yesterday.

Nearly twenty years ago, before the Tourney at Harrenhal, Catelyn and several others had met in the Lower Bailey of Riverrun. When Brandon Stark had seen that Petyr Baelish wore only a helm, breastplate and chainmail, he took off most of his armor. Some might call it arrogance, but in a sad way, the Wild Wolf was trying to be extra fair to his challenger.

Brandon was a warrior, Petyr wasn't.

The purpose of the duel was Petyr challenging the heir to Winterfell for Catelyn's hand in marriage. He was smitten with her back then and wanted to be with her as her husband when the time was right. So once word got out of her engagement, Littlefinger sought to be her husband instead of the wild Northerner.

Petyr had begged her for a favor he might wear, but she had turned him away. Her father had betrothed her to Brandon Stark, so she gave the token to her future husband instead; a handmade pale blue scarf with the embroidered sigil of House Tully.

"He is only a foolish boy, but I have loved him like a brother. It would grieve me to see him die." She had said to Brandon Stark back then.

Her betrothed had looked at her with the cool, grey eyes of a Stark and promised to spare his life.

The fight was over as soon as it began, yet every time Brandon called for him to yield, Littlefinger would only shake his head and continue fighting grimly. When the river was lapping at their ankles, Brandon ended it with a brutal backhand cut that bit through Petyr's chainmail and leather into the soft flesh. Catelyn had been sure the wound Petyr received from navel to collarbone was mortal. Petyr had looked at her and murmured "Cat" before passing out from his injuries.

In a sad way, if Catelyn didn't intervene prior to the start of the duel, Littlefinger would've died that day.

As a consequence of this slight and embarrassment, Lord Holster Tully banished Petyr from Riverrun and sent him back home to the Fingers of the Vale. It would've been sooner but with how badly hurt he was, Petyr stayed a fortnight longer to recover and Lysa had helped their maester nurse him for the duration of that time; despite her being forbidden from doing so.

Catelyn hadn't seen him again until the day she had been brought to him in his own brothel in King's Landing.

The Lady of Winterfell came out of her thoughts when she heard some commotion from the impromptu battle arena within the High Hall.

"You shouldn't have chosen to defend the Lannister. He is not worth protecting." Said Ser Vardis, who soon drew out his trusted sword and banged it against his shield.

"I will decide who is worth protecting." Cloud said, taking his large Fusion sword in hand and holding it before him.

Many in the hall murmured in fear and awe at seeing him wield such a large blade with apparent ease.

The knight before him appeared to be shaken at seeing such a monstrous weapon but he shook his head and steeled himself.

However, rather than getting into his usual stance when wielding his great sword, Cloud twirled it about and embedded it into the stone floor.

"What manner of foolery is this?" Lysa spoke up irritably.

"I don't need my sword to beat him." Cloud said plainly. "One swing would kill him in an instant."

Vardis gazed upon the large blade and gulped behind his helmet, silently glad to hear it. The Fusion sword looked fearsome and terrifying and he'd rather die quickly than painfully.

Still, him fighting without a weapon irked the Knight of the Vale.

"You may not be a knight but I would find fighting you without a weapon to be dishonorable and unfair." Vardis spoke up. "Lord Jon Arryn would not approve of such a trial."

Cloud snorted, casually leaning his elbow upon his large blade.

"Trust me, I really don't need a weapon to beat you." Stated Cloud with complete confidence.

Hearing this, Vardis found himself irritated now at the blatant disregard of his own skills and quickly got back into position.

A few words of encouragement were thrown in Vardis' direction as the Knight readied himself for battle.

With excitement filling his eyes, Robin roared at the top of his lungs. "FIGHT!"

Vardis strode forward whilst Cloud simply pushed himself off his sword and waited for the knight to draw near.

The Vale knight went in for a horizontal swing with Cloud casually taking a step back to avoid it.

Vardis however didn't stop and continued his motions with a diagonal swing that was avoided once again.

The blond wolf was sidestepping with the greatest of ease as he perceived the swings of the knight to be slow and rather uncoordinated.

The most recent attack made Cloud casually palm the man's wrist and "lightly" shoved him away.

"That the best you got? I've gotten a bit more of a workout from Arya." Cloud goaded. "Little Wolf is more skilled than you, that's for sure.

Vardis grunted beneath his helmet. He hated that the man was toying with him but damned if he wasn't strong. He barely felt the man's hand on his wrist yet that one push sent him stumbling.

Catelyn, all the while, momentarily tensed up at the mention of her daughter.

Cloud appears to know her and from the tone of his voice, it seems he is on friendly terms with her.

"Come on then." Strife gestured. "Let's get this over with."

Ser Vardis inhaled and exhaled to steady his rapidly beating heart and prepared to move forward.

Cloud waited patiently as the knight took his moments to breathe before reengaging in the "duel".

Pumping himself up for his next attack, Vardis charged forward.

The Blonde Wolf left himself wide open this time around, letting Vardis to come in close for the attack. When the weapon came in close, Cloud quickly ensnared the wielded arm and flipped the Vale knight over.

Vardis' form clattered upon the ground, the sound of metal hitting stone echoing around the room with many wincing upon seeing this.

He groaned in pain and discomfort, shakily rising back to his feet to see Cloud standing there with his arms crossed.

"A simple throw won't stop me."

"Wasn't expecting you to."

"Enough of this." Lysa spoke up angrily. "Ser Vardis, finish him."

"Are you blind?" Tyrion couldn't help himself. "Do you not see it clearly that your knight is outmatched?"

Lysa ignored the Imp as she commanded her knight to get back up.

Cloud rolled his eyes and went straight up to Vardis in a shocking burst of speed.

All jolted back in surprise and shock at the display and no one registered the hand that blurred towards Vardis. Said man barely had time to move his shield to protect himself.

With a palm strike to the shield, it shattered upon impact.

Vardis stared at his now broken shield with only the piece that was attached to the strap being all that remained.

With another palm strike, the Vale knight was sent flying and crashed against a far off pillar.

From a number of people, they could only gasp on the display while others mutter in utter worry. Yet many can see the massive dent in the plate of chest armor by a mere single hand thrust.

"Yield." Said Cloud, standing over the knight. "You don't need to die pointlessly. I don't want to kill someone who hasn't done anything wrong."

"A knight of the Vale does not yield so easily." Vardis grunted out.

"Oh? You want me to throw you around the room a bit more then?" Cloud rhetorically asked, seeing the man pale at the thought. "When will you realize that sooner or later, your honor will get you killed."

The Vale knight struggled to get back up, but the pain he was experiencing at both his chest and back was greatly affecting him.

"You fight with no honor."

"I put honor to the sidelines because honor has no real place in the battlefield. You live or die in the end." Cloud pointed out. "Will you wield?"

From the sidelines, Bronn harrumphed in agreement. And sad to say the Blackfish thought so as well.

"Lysa." Brynden spoke up. "Enough of this folly. Ser Vardis's bravery and honor are not in question for standing against such an opponent. Let the man accept his defeat and be done with this trial."

Lysa whirled about to face the Blackfish, scandalous expression in place. "Uncle-"

"I yield." Vardis said aloud, managing to get to his knees whilst removing his heavily dented armor that was digging into his skin. "Ser Brynden is right. As much as I hate to admit it, I am completely outclassed in this fight."

While many would have grumbled at hearing this, the Blackfish's word held a great degree of weight within the Vale. Still, many spectators felt scandalized by what just occurred, having the right hand of the late Jon Arryn admit defeat in such a fashion.

"Wouldn't have made a difference who I fought." Cloud said. "So, is this bullshit over? Do I win?"

Lysa sneered and managed out through gritted teeth.

"Yes."

Bronn merely chortled on what he witnessed. All that was missing on this bit of entertainment was a flagon of ale and a snack to partake.

Cloud went back over to the man he was representing in this fight, grabbing his sword along the way and placing it on his back.

"You didn't kill him. Why?" Tyrion asked in surprise, nursing his now unshackled wrists.

"I didn't, cause there was no point cause this whole trial was a farce."

"But it was a trial by combat."

"I don't kill unless necessary, Lannister." Cloud said with a fierce gaze. "This whole scandal was pointless so killing a man like him was pointless. Just be glad you're alive right now."

Tyrion had to admit Cloud had a point.

"With that all settled, I believe we must be on our way." Said the Lannister.

Walking up to Ser Rodrick, Tyrion asked for his purse of gold back. It was retrieved soon after, which was soon given to Mord as he fulfilled his promise from earlier.

Tyrion soon made his way out of the Eyrie. Bronn decided to follow him as a means of seeking further work. Yet before both men could leave-

"Before we go-" Cloud made everyone turn to him in confusion.

The swordsman approached the area just below the elevated seat that Lysa and Robin sat upon.

"Is there something you need?" Lysa sneered at the swordsman.

"While I'm here, I might as well ask a few questions." Cloud spoke up, turning to face up to Lysa Arryn seated on the strangely carved throne.

"I refuse to answer whatever you-"

"Oh I'm sorry, I meant to say demand." Pulling out a sealed scroll with the official seal on the wax, Cloud somewhat held it up. "By decree of Lord Eddard Stark, Hand of King Robert Baratheon, you Lady Lysa Arryn are to be questioned."

This caused a bit of murmurs to arise within the High Hall. So much so that Bronn and Tyrion decided to actually stay longer than they would like to out of interest now.

"For what?" Lysa asked in bewilderment.

Cat and Brynden shared a look with equal confusion.

"A number of things." Said the swordsman as he holstered his Fusion Sword back into its unique sheath on his back. "To begin with, there are your actions in the final weeks of your husband's life."

Cat chose this moment to speak up. "Begging your pardon, Cloud, but what-"

"Her suddenly fleeing from the capital isn't something one would do after her husband would die." Cloud sharply cut her off. "Even if she was afraid, at the very least she should have stayed for her husband's funeral."

"But she feared for her life and of her son." Catelyn argued.

"I'm well aware of that, given what your husband told me. But I believe the reasons were for something else instead of the Lannisters."

"Excuse me?" Lysa said, now incredulous from the Weirwood throne.

Cloud then gazed over to a very confused young boy who was also a bit annoyed at not seeing anyone go through the Moon Door.

The boy shifted about and leaned closer to his mother who instantly had her arms around her son.

"You are scaring my son." Lysa practically snarled.

"Uh huh." Cloud said uncaringly, squinting at the boy. "Your son has quite the uncanny resemblance of his father."

Lysa was clearly thrown off by this sudden compliment and managed to regain a bit of her composure. "Why thank you. Jon would be-"

"I wasn't referring to your husband." Cloud interrupted.

This caused an eerie silence to fill the chamber. Many were shocked by what was just spoken.

"...What did you just say?" Lysa said in a quiet tone.

Cloud soon explained, but not the way many expected it to be.

"I heard the rumors from the capital of Baelish taking Catelyn's maidenhead. And I thought it was merely annoying how "big" it was. People gossip all sorts of things in court these days for entertainment."

When this was said, Tyrion sent an amused look to Catelyn to show her that he was right beforehand.

Lady Stark flushed with anger at the insinuation of Baelish being the one to have taken her maidenhead. She knew of the man's love for her but to think he would go as to say such a despicable thing.

"But to humor myself, I decided to chat around a little to hear more of what happened which led to it." Cloud continued on as everyone hung on his every word now. "Heard from some lords, ladies and even whores that it happened around the time of Petyr dueling for her hand of marriage. How he "gallantly" fell in battle against the Wild Wolf. As he rested from his injuries, he had a visitor to cheer him up. By their accounts it was Catelyn who spent the night with him. And the night after and so on until he was deported back to the Fingers. And you can tell where this is going."

Catelyn was ready to yell out that this was a lie. More so when murmurs and glances were aimed towards her. Yet before she had the chance to, the blonde sellsword continued on.

"Yet that didn't seem to fit, given when I said this to Ned Stark, he absolutely became livid."

The Lady of Winterfell deflated her anger for mere moments, but seemed to reignite a bit with what came after.

"And how can you be so sure?" Tyrion couldn't help but ask with a smirk.

"Because he had to awkwardly tell me she had bled when they had to consummate their marriage." Said Cloud. "How painful the experience was at first before how that song and dance went."

Many blushed upon hearing this, especially since it came not from just the blond wolf but from Eddard Stark himself.

"Anyways, this got me thinking a bit more while on my way here." Cloud went on. "About how, if it wasn't Catelyn that Baelish claimed a maidenhead from, who else could it have possibly been at that time and place?"

Catelyn soon turned in a slow realization. There she saw Lysa's expression grow paler and paler as Cloud spoke.

"And things seem to click and fit together now I'm right here." Said the swordsman. "Tell me, Lady Lysa, is Robin your husband's son and heir? Cause I've heard much about Jon Arryn and Robin doesn't quite fit the bill on a number of things. His present attitude and personality are quite an example. Another being him looking so much like Baelish with that skinny frame and unusually unknightly aura that seems to emanate off of him."

Two things happened right here and there. First were most of the Valemen present gasping at the accusation. The other-

"HE IS JON'S SON AND HE IS THE HEIR TO THE VALE!" Lysa all but shrieked.

Cloud's eyes now glinted dangerously as he turned to see a number of knights, lords and ladies now showing a clear sign of mistrust.

"A lot of you lords, ladies and knights here grew up knowing Jon Arryn, yes?" Came the rhetorical question from Strife. "Tell me, is there anyone here who actually grew up with him? Seen and interacted with him since he was a child. There has to be at least someone, unless they all died of old age."

Many murmurs followed suit.

"Well?"

Lysa growled aloud, looking quite deranged now. "Enough! I will not tolerate your falsehood of a tale!" She glanced towards the knights in the High Hall and yelled. "Seize him now! I command it!"

As this went on, Brynden Tully couldn't help but look at his great nephew. And look he did.

The Blackfish had a number of interactions with Jon Arryn in their younger years, especially during the Fifth Blackfyre Rebellion over in the Stepstones. He can still recall the strong features of the Valeman all those years ago, yet they seemed to differ with the sickly frail boy sitting on Lysa's side.

And the more he gazed upon him, the more he had flashes to younger days with his nieces and nephew with the young ward that was growing up alongside them.

'God's no.' Brynden internally pleaded. 'Please let this be false.'

"Now, another thing I'd like to question is why you suddenly acted like a dutiful and caring wife after all these years. Suddenly becoming thoughtful towards the man you utterly hated in marrying." Cloud stated. "Something that a lot of people were well aware of."

The murmurs only grew in volume upon hearing this.

'I do recall that happening.' Tyrion thought to himself. 'I did find that quite strange the few times Jon and I chatted before he fell ill and during his final days.'

"In fact," Cloud now turned to Catelyn. "When I met with Lady Stark in private with her husband back at King's Landing, Lord Baelish was there. And did you know what he told us? That the blade used in the attempted assassination of Brandon Stark belonged to none other than Tyrion Lannister."

Many gasped as they turned to the Lannister in the chamber.

"I thought we had that cleared up on the road." Tyrion muttered out. "No. I did not kill Catelyn's son, just as I didn't kill Jon Arryn."

Ser Rodrik, Ser Brynden and Lady Catelyn were ready to step up and speak in the Imp's defense when things continued.

"Tell me Lord Tyrion." Cloud turned to face him. "Did you ever own a Valyrian dagger?"

"No I did not. If I did, it wouldn't be in my possession for long." Tyrion grumped. "My Father would make sure to have taken it from me the moment I won it."

"Then who did?"

"King Robert won it from Littlefinger, who then gifted it to Joffrey." Tyrion answered. "Whatever Valyrian dagger was used in this plot was never in my possession to begin with."

"A falsehood!" Lysa screamed. "He-"

"Is innocent in all crimes he's been accused of in your stupid conspiracy so whatever you say next, think carefully Lady Lysa." Cloud said, tone deadly serious.

Lysa wisely bit her tongue at this very moment but if looks could kill, Strife would have died a thousand times over.

"So let's talk about what really happened."

The younger Tully sister was tensing up and she felt as though her heart was about to explode from her chest.

Cloud began pacing about as if he were a caged animal.

"A litany of events and carefully conceived planning was made over your time in King's Landing when you stayed with your husband. And coincidentally, your old childhood friend was there for all that time, once becoming Master of Coin after faithfully serving as Gulltown's chief financier. Both counts were upon your recommendation."

Catelyn looked between both her sister and Cloud with an expression of trepidation and growing dread.

"During his time in the capital, you two used every free opportunity to get together and have fun in the sheets." Nearly everyone present flinched at the mention of such improper conduct. "I wouldn't be surprised if it was during the many long hours your husband was away doing his duty as Hand. And sooner or later, you got pregnant and decided to sleep with Jon Arryn again for a while to cover up your actions with Littlefinger."

"You lie! This is not-"

"And quite recently -months ago in fact- you ended up having Ser Hugh unknowingly deliver the poisoned food and drink to Jon Arryn and had him consume it. Poison which you either stole from Grand Maester Pycelle's storage or -what I highly believe- acquired it from Baelish, your lover and father of your son."

"A lie, I swear by the gods!" Lysa was starting to hyperventilate, a crazed look in her eyes now.

"Oh? Then is it true that Lord Arryn wanted "his" son to be fostered to another family? To Tywin Lannister or Ned Stark, no less?" Many glared at the thought of such a notion before their eyes were met by Cloud's own. "Either of those men would've helped mold Robin into a man truly worthy of the Vale. Especially with Ned regarding Jon as his surrogate father, something you are all quite well aware of. Yet the mere idea disgusted you, Lady Lysa, forcing you to have your husband killed before fleeing the capital in defiance of King Robert; who greatly supported the decision of fostering in the first place."

Lysa hotly glared at the blonde sellsword as she hugged her son ever tighter. Madness started to rise ever more with what came out of her mouth next.

"Robin is my son. My greatest treasure." Lysa's voice now became hysterical. "No one is allowed to have him. Not the wolf, nor the lion or stag! Robin is mine! Mine! DO YOU HEAR ME?! MINE!"

"Lysa!" Ser Brynden said aloud, hoping to have her come to her senses yet it was for naught as Cloud went on.

"And when Littlefinger came with the offer to resolve these issues, you were quick to take it with no hesitation whatsoever. I bet he convinced you to send a warning to your sister about the Lannisters being responsible as a means of hiding your actions. More so with the man you love above all else." Came Cloud's statement. "I bet that when Catelyn came to the capital, Petyr decided to throw others off this little conspiracy. He decided to throw Tyrion Lannister under the wagon so he can take the blame for the time being, proclaiming that he won the dagger instead of the king."

The wife of Jon Arryn was starting to look and become more deranged, not noticing her son was beginning to squirm beneath her touch.

"M-mother." Robin squeaked out. "You're hurting me."

It was by that point did Lysa snap.

"Of course I took it! Jon wanted me to give up my son to that Old Lion and possibly never see him ever again. I would never see my sweet, innocent Robin as I knew him but a complete stranger. Molded to become some cold, hardened bastard with no love towards me, his mother! Petyr offered me a way to remove my so-called husband and I took it because our Robin is special. So I did the only thing I could do and did it myself!"

Lysa's harsh confession echoed within the High Hall as many seemed to gape on what they just heard.

It took her a moment but soon she realized what she had just revealed.

"Our Robin? Don't you mean to say yours." Cloud pointed out.

"I-I-I…" Lysa was stammering, a sheen of cold sweat on her forehead appearing for all to see.

"So, you admit that not only Robin is Baelish's son, but you taking your husband's life."

"Lysa." Cat's lip trembled as tears appeared out of the corner of her eyes. "How could you?"

"What have you done?" Brynden's voice was strained with disbelief.

"Y-Y-You tricked me! You bastard! You tricked me!" Lysa said in stammered shock, feeling all so many eyes landing on her and slowly burning through her.

Catelyn had a hand up to her mouth as tears now openly streamed down her face upon realizing that everything Cloud was accusing her sister was true.

"I didn't, my lady." Cloud said heavily. "You merely admitted the truth, just after I laid out all the facts on you."

Catelyn wept aloud, throwing her arms around her uncle who hugged her tightly.

"If you plan on getting away without raising suspicion, don't act out of character all of a sudden. Most people would pick up on it right away." Cloud's smirk drove Lysa further into madness. "Besides, if Robin was truly Jon Arryn's son, you wouldn't have cared at all in letting him being fostered. Isn't that right?"

Lysa didn't get a proper answer as a couple of Vale knights quickly rose through the steps, seized Lysa and the false heir to House Arryn and dragged them out of the chamber for further questioning. The Tully woman was too shocked to respond at first before she started screaming bloody murder. Robin was in a similar boat, but in a more bratty approach.

Even as they left the High Hall, their yells still reverberated throughout the space as a loud clamor soon erupted.

Cloud turned to Cat who was still crying before looking at Ser Rodrik and gave him an apologetic look.

"Sorry you all had to see that." Cloud spoke up, tone genuine.

He whirled about to see Bronn staring around awkwardly whilst Tyrion's expression was more in a state of turmoil.

"Come on." Cloud said, walking towards them. "Let's get the hell outta here. Caused enough damage as is."

Tyrion couldn't help but agree as he practically walked as fast as his stubby legs could take him out of the Eyrie. And following behind the two blondes was Bronn who knew shit was clearly thrown into the wind with it landing everywhere; given what he just witnessed.

As the three left the Eyrie, the clamoring of Valemen continued on. Discussions of what would happen now with the revealed confession of Jon Arryn's murder and bloodline theft.

It was a heinous crime amongst many noble houses. It happened before a number of occasions with a supposed heir being made through a great family. Yet lies cover up the truth with a bastard having taken everything underneath everyone's noses and no one being the wiser. Yet sooner or later the truth would get out.

One just couldn't believe such a thing would happen to the great and ancient House of Arryn.

From one corner of the chamber, Brynden, Rodrik and Catelyn were chatting amongst each other.

"This… This will be a great stain on our House." Said Brynden as he clenched his fists as he tried to calm himself. "While the rest of our family is innocent, Catelyn... what Lysa did…"

"Gods uncle, please." She pleaded. "Not… not now. I just wish to retire. But we must write to Ned. And to Edmure and my father."

"Aye." The Blackfish nodded. "We must. Seven Hells."

Rodrik couldn't agree more from both Tullys. With what occurred no doubt exhausted him greatly from the surprises he just heard. Yet business needed to be enacted before they could rest. For any delays will worsen the issue ever further.

As the matter of Lysa's crime was soon to be discussed in the Eyrie; Cloud, Bronn and Tyrion were making their way down the mountainous castle.

"Well now…" Bronn coughed into his hand. "That wasn't a fucked situation we just saw."

"The Vale will be in a state of uproar." Tyrion murmured darkly. "No doubt King Robert and Lord Stark will be in a similar state of mind. The legacy of their beloved Jon Arryn is now in ruin."

"His legacy isn't but what has come afterwards… Well, insulting is just the nicest word I can think of." Cloud remarked. "Not even fucked or messed up would do it justice."

"Let us be far away from this place." Tyrion grimaced. "It has left a bad taste in my mouth."

The group fell into silence for a few moments as they walked further down the path away from the Eyrie.

"So, how'd you get up here anyway?" Bronn couldn't help but ask. "Scaled the mountains?"

"I flew."

Tyrion and Bronn looked at the blond wolf in astonished bewilderment.

"You… flew?" Tyrion repeated, hoping to see that what he heard was correct.

Cloud nodded, fishing something out of his pocket.

"Yeah, it's how we're getting down to the Riverlands."

He held whatever it was he had in his hand close to his chest and closed his eyes, concentrating on the item.

"Lend me your strength." Cloud whispered and before his two companions were able to ask what he was doing, they were silenced by the glowing light shining out in between his fingers.

He held his fist up now and opened it to reveal an aquatic designed trinket of some kind that had water flowing from and around it.

Moments later, above the trio, a swirling vortex seemingly appeared from out of thin air.

Tyrion and Bronn leapt back in shock which only escalated as a large, serpentine creature burst forth from the floating, watery vortex and let out a large screech.

His two new companions practically had their jaws on the floor at the sight of the creature he had called forth.

The Leviathan.

"Is...Is that a f-fucking dragon?!" Bronn blurted out, stepping back in utter fright.

Tyrion's expression changed from nervousness into that of childish wonder.

"Technically it's a sea dragon." Said Cloud, pocketing his summon charm whilst the serpentine creature flew around and hovered before them. "He's a Leviathan. Now climb on."

The Sellsword and Lord's heads snapped to Cloud who had already walked over and quickly seated himself directly upon the neck of the beast. He gave the Leviathan a few appreciative pats with the sea dragon warbling its thanks.

Eventually, with great anxiousness and reservation, both men now found themselves seated upon this mythical creature.

"Hold on tight, he likes to swerve."

This was the only warning Bronn and Tyrion got as the Leviathan took off from the Eyrie.

If they were to look back, they would've seen a number of Vale men flipping their lids upon seeing the airborne creature and causing a panic. Yet they couldn't as the two held on for dear life.

"Seven fucking hells." Bronn could barely contain himself now, smiling madly. "We're flying on a fucking dragon. Take that ya fucking Targaryens, new dragon riders are here."

Tyrion didn't even bother to hide his boisterous laughter as old and long dead dreams of having a dragon had come true just now.

"Tell me, Cloud, are you of Valyrian descent?" Asked the Imp. "It would make sense."

"I am most certainly not related to any of those inbreds." Cloud said scornfully.

A snort was soon delivered, but it was hard to tell if it came from either Bronn or Tyrion.

As the Leviathan flew through the air, an onlooker saw this from the ground.

A lone eye stared at it in curiosity as it's ears twitched a little as did it's nose.

Taking a gamble, it took off with all it's might in order to follow after the dragon in the sky.

From any onlooker seeing from the valleys of the Vale, they would see a reddened blur with a small fiery blaze following behind it.

-The Red Keep-

The castle was in a constant state of motion since the Tourney of the Hand.

Knights and guards were in a state of rotation in guarding the Red Keep whilst the City Watch kept patrolling the capital itself.

Then again, it's the duty of the City Watch to patrol the Capital only in this instance even more so with the ever present threat of the Heartless and Unversed.

A state of unease and unrest was growing across the city with civilians unsure as to what may happen next.

To put it plainly, many were scared.

Of course, there are a few ways to escape such a state of mind. One of which was happening right here.

Within a chamber of Maegor's Holdfast, Princess Myrcella was having a small meal with two of her friends.

Sansa Stark and Jeyne Poole sat with her and the trio were enjoying a nice batch of freshly made lemon and strawberry cake.

The girls were chatting idly about a number of small topics from embroidery, to the tourney that had passed by to just simple things like the weather and home.

One would assume that nothing terrible had transpired or was about to happen, the friendly air shared between the girls.

"Any words from your lover back North?" Myrcella asked with a teasing smile.

She got the desired reaction from Jeyne that she wanted, a red face and stammering, clearly lovestruck young girl.

"Ah yes, Gared Tuttle, right?' Sansa asked jokingly.

"W-We aren't lovers." The stewardess defended. "We haven't seen each other since I came here."

"Not yet it seems." Sansa giggled.

Jeyne only flushed into a deeper shade of red with steam wafting off of her head.

"Have you at least kissed?"

Poole coughed into her hand, her fingers hovering over her lips.

"Y-yes." She whispered. "Once. Before he went back to Ironrath."

"And?" Myrcella leaned forward with a wide smile in place.

"It was… good. It was good." Jeyne squeaked out.

"Just good?" Sansa asked with a sly grin.

Jeyne had her mouth opening and closing several times before she huffed out an annoyed look.

"It's not fair." She whined. "You too are ganging up on me. How am I supposed to retort to a princess and highborn Lady?"

"You'll just have to learn, I suppose." Came Myrcella's response.

The stewardess merely huffed, mumbling to herself about how unfair it was.

"But you didn't tell us." the Princess spoke up. "How was it?"

"I thought I did." Jeyne said grumpily.

"We know." Sansa said behind her sleeves. "We just like seeing you like this."

"You're a terrible friend, Sansa." Jeyne deadpanned.

A moment later, the three girls laughed together.

"If you'll excuse me, I need to freshen up."

Myrcella let Jeyne Poole depart from the room so she may use the privy.

Once it was just the two high born ladies, the blonde Baratheon spoke.

"Mother always spoke of how her own mother was once a Lady-in-waiting for the previous queen. Jeyne reminds me of that in a few ways."

Sansa blinked in both surprise and curiosity.

"Really? I didn't know that."

"People of the present generation don't remember much of those who took part in the Mad King's court. Some wish to forget the bad memories while others wish to forget all together. Yet I wish to keep the memory alive."

"Why?"

"Cause it's the only way I may know of my maternal grandmother." Myrcella said in a somber smile. "It's the only time I see my own mother genuinely smile."

Sansa let loose a small nod. "I can understand where you're coming from, yet instead of smiles; my father and uncle Benjen rarely speak of my aunt Lyanna with sadness in their voices."

"Lyanna." Myrcella said with a frown. "That's… that's the woman my father was originally betrothed to. The one kidnapped by Rhaegar Targaryen."

"Yes, she was." Sansa said simply, taking a sip of water. "I don't know much about my aunt. Only that she was greatly beloved by nearly all of the North. That Arya is basically a copy of her. And Ventus was close to her during the Tourney at Harrenhal. Any other details about her are hard to really explain."

"My father still loves her." The Princess said with a sad frown. "He's all she talks about sometimes. It's probably why he and mother couldn't ever…"

"Ever what?"

"Be happy together."

"Oh…"

It was a bit awkward between the two for a brief moment.

"My father often told me that… one's duty always clashed with one's love." Sansa stated.

"Lord Stark is an honorable man." Myrcella spoke in admiration now. "My father and Jon Arryn never had a bad thing to say about him. He always seemed to do the right thing in their eyes."

Sansa smiled at this compliment.

"Father always cares for us all." The RedHead Stark said, thinking back to Winterfell and her siblings. "He always took time out of his day to just spend as much as he could with me and my siblings. Always encouraged to pursue our talents."

Myrcella had a more wistful and longing smile.

"Father tries." She said in a low voice. "He just… I feel he doesn't know how to be a proper father. But… I can tell he at least loves me."

"How can you tell?" Sansa inquired.

"Lord Arryn spoke of how love comes in the eyes." Myrcella said. "He told me that you can tell a lot about a person by their eyes. And he always assured me that when Robert looked at me with his eyes, he was able to see he loved me. Whenever he gazes at Tommen, I feel there's some state of indifference while Joffrey earns one of disappointment."

Once more, silence befell the two of them for a few moments until the princess spoke once more.

"When talking to my grandfather, my mother, uncle Jamie, Ser Barristan and Maester Pycelle, I was able to learn a rough idea on who my grandmother was like back then." Myrcella began. "Like your aunt, my grandmother was greatly beloved by many. She was like a light in the royal court and many sought to be their bride. Yet my grandfather was the victor and he couldn't have been ever happier. She was even the only person to ever make him laugh."

"Really? You must be joking."

For everything she knew about the Old Lion of the Rock and from what she has seen, Sansa could never imagine him ever laughing. He was a cold, stoic man with practically every bit of happiness sucked out of him like a leech did with tainted blood.

"I wish I were." Myrcella said with a laugh. "I know how my grandfather can be."

Sansa found herself giggling with the princess as both girls found it greatly amusing at the thought of the unflinching and cold Tywin Lannister laughing and smiling.

The redhead then tilted her head, humming in thought.

"What was she like then?"

"Who?"

"Your grandmother? Joanna Lannister." Sansa clarified. "She must have been something special for someone like Tywin Lannister to love her so dearly."

The Princess nodded. "She was, from what I've been told by my Lannister side of my family. My mother never said a bad word about her and my great Aunt Genna had this fond but sad look on her face whenever she brought up Joanna."

"Sounds like my father when he talks about Aunt Lyanna." Sansa noted with a small frown.

Myrcella let out a wistful sigh. "It seems like both our families have ladies who died before their time."

The two girls had a moment of reflective and respectful silence as they thought about family members that had passed before they could ever meet them before they resumed conversing with one another.

They both spoke on the stories they had heard of Lyanna and Joanna and what they were like.

"With my grandmother being one of Queen Rhaella's ladies-in-waiting, she became close friends with not just her but Tyene's grandmother, the Princess of Dorne Loreza Martell. They were inseparable."

"What's this about my grandmother?"

Both girls turned to see none other than Tyene Sand having entered the room.

"Tyene?" Sansa said in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

The Dornish Bastard shrugged, walking over to an empty seat around the table and plopped herself down upon it.

"Was looking for Roxas to tell him I'm ready and thought I'd find him here." Tyene said, grabbing herself a small cup of what was tea. "Looks like he isn't."

"You're ready?" Myrcella said in confusion. "Ready for what?"

"I'm going with Roxas and his company to the Riverlands tomorrow." Tyene revealed. "We're going after that freak Vanitas."

Both girls gasped aloud in open shock.

"Tyene." Myrcella conveyed clear concern and worry. "Why would you endeavor to do such a thing? You saw first hand what that… that monster is capable of. Why in the name of the Seven would you go with Roxas on this dangerous task?"

Tyene didn't respond at first, thinking over as to why she was going for a brief moment.

"That… that freak of nature." She nearly snarled. "Has threatened my family on a number of occasions. Nearly killed my aunt Elia during Harrenhal's Tourney and now made himself known that he intends to bring harm once more to the Martells. You heard him when he came during the Hand's Tourney. He said Princesses. Aside from you, Myrcella, what other Princesses are there in Westeros?"

Neither of the two Ladies responded but they knew full well to whom the Bastard girl was referring to.

"I will not have that son of a whore threaten my family again." Tyene all but hissed, living up to her moniker of being one of the Sand Snakes. "Arianne is dear to me and I love her as she does my sisters and I. If he thinks he can just threaten my family like that, then he is an even bigger fool than he looks."

"Tyene, much as I understand how much you care for your family, Vanitas is incredibly dangerous." Sansa emphasized. "You saw what state Roxas was in after they fought. Do you truly wish to go after some like him?"

The Sand girl scoffed. "I'm certain he hasn't faced someone who can sneak around like I can."

"Tyene, that would be reckless." Myrcella said, voice now more firm. "Do you truly think it so easy to assassinate someone like Vanitas so easily?"

Tyene didn't respond, instead leaning back into her chair and let out a sigh.

"I know." she admitted. "It is a fool's errand, my Gruncle Lewyn told me."

"Then why didn't he stop you?" Sansa asked.

"Because he would have done the same." Tyene stated. "He never let go of the grudge he held against him when he first attacked Elia at Harrenhal."

"Sounds a lot like a Northerner." Sansa couldn't help but say. "The North Remembers, as my people say. We have a long memory."

"As does my family." Tyene said with a far more savage look to her.

Myrcella felt rather uncomfortable speaking about someone who frightened her so much, so she decided to steer the conversation back to what she and Sansa were talking about earlier.

"Tyene." Myrcella spoke up, making her turn towards her. "You came in here asking about your grandmother, yes? Unintentionally, I mean."

The Dornish girl blinked for a moment before nodding.

"Ah, yes, Loreza Martell." Tyene said. "My father's mother. He always talked about her with love."

"Appears to be a recurring theme." Sansa commented. "We were talking about Lyanna and Joanna, my aunt and the Princesses grandmother."

Neither Sansa nor Myrcella noticed how Tyene's expression became momentarily stony at the mention of Lyanna.

"Did you ever get to know your grandmother at least?" Myrcella asked. "Neither of us did."

Tyene shook her head.

"I never personally knew her, only tales from my family." Said the Sand Snake.

"So the same as us then." Sansa said with a sigh. "A recurring theme indeed."

"Well then." Myrcella propped her arms up on the table. "What was she like then from what your father and great uncle described her as?"

"Gruncle." Tyene corrected. "Easier and shorter to say."

The bastard girl adopted a thoughtful look as she mulled over the times her family did speak of her grandmother.

"She was sharp witted." Tyene began. "Though that's a common trait most Martells have. But she was kind and loving. My father always talked about how she doted on Aunt Elia and constantly reprimanded my father for not thinking before jumping into situations."

Tyene then giggled. "Apparently, she just had to speak about keeping Elia safe and that kept him in line. Well, as best as one could."

"I hear she was also a Lady-in-waiting to Queen Rhaella just like my grandmother Joanna was."

The black haired teen nodded in confirmation.

"They sought to strengthen their friendship by having their children marry each other."

The Stark girl grew curious. "How?"

"Rhaella and Loreza planned on having Rhaegar and Elia marry for starters." Tyene informed the Northerner. "My father and uncle were hesitant on the idea, but they couldn't argue much against their mother and ruler of Dorne. From there, Joanna sought to have Cersei marry either my father or my uncle. Yet the plan couldn't fully work out due to Joanna's death. Yes Rhaegar and Elia eventually married, but you two know the rest."

"War and our families losing loved ones." A somber tone came from Sansa.

"But at least my family had gotten some measure of justice after all these years." Tyene said with a more wry smile. "The death of Gregor Clegane as both a man and the monster he truly was is enough for now. All that's left is killing Vanitas."

The other two girls shifted about uncomfortably at how casually the Sand Snake spoke of killing someone.

Sansa took a moment to take a bite out of her lemon cake until Tyene spoke up again.

"Is it true you have a bastard half brother?"

The Stark girl nearly choked slightly on her food before taking a moment to compose herself.

"I-I do." she replied, unsure of where this was coming from.

Tyene hummed aloud in thought. "And what's he like?"

Sansa didn't respond at first as her mind was still trying to make sense of the situation and better yet the question as to why Tyene would just ask her such a thing.

However, after a moment of thought, she did remember that Tyene was a bastard herself and had seven half-bastard sisters whom her father all openly claimed with love and affection for them all.

"He…" Sansa paused for a moment and found herself frowning.

Ever since she came down South and got exposed to how the rest of Westeros was, a lot has changed for her since leaving home.

She had learned that many of her fantasies and beliefs of knighthood and chivalry were more of a facade than it was reality.

Roxas' nature helped in this revelation.

That King's Landing was filled with nothing but gossip and politics that made her head spin as everyone spoke in code or riddles rather than plainly and honestly like they did in the North.

Another thing that had to make her reevaluate what she thought she knew about the world was bastards.

With bastards, people in the South viewed them in a far more stricter and more harsh manner. Occasionally labeling them as thieves and even a product of betrayal from a married couple.

The North doesn't see them as such, to a degree. And given what she learned from Arianne, Dorne is far more accepting of them. Evident was her time she had seen her with Tyene and several other of Oberyn's bastards that came to the capital.

"Sansa?"

The Stark girl blinked, realizing that both her friends were looking at her expectantly.

"Huh?" came her response.

"Are you alright?" The princess asked. "You went silent there for a bit."

Sansa found herself flushing slightly in embarrassment and regained a bit of her bearings.

"Apologies, Myrcella." She said, "Just had something on my mind."

"About what?" Tyene inquired.

"About how much I thought I knew but really didn't."

The Dornish girl hummed as she sipped her tea.

"Girls kept up in their towers, lonely and concocting fantasies which were never entirely real." Tyene remarked.

"Where did you hear that?" Myrcella asked.

"My father." Tyene stated. "He was never one to mince words. But still, Sansa, you never answered my earlier question. What's your bastard half-brother like? The realm always spoke of your father's honor so imagine everyone's shock when they hear of him siring one."

Sansa was hesitant, seeming to take a bit too long to come up with an answer. She thought back to Jon and a sudden feeling of burning shame welled up in her chest in the manner in which she treated him when she was growing up.

Tyene sighed as she placed her tea cup down, feeling a bit disappointed.

What soon came out of Tyene's mouth quickly drew in Sansa, while leaving her shaken.

"The circumstances of one's birth are irrelevant, you know" Tyene spoke plainly and honestly. "It is what you do with the gift of life that determines who you are. People demean the ideas of bastards. So many are overlooked and treated like thieves or worse. Yet so many have the potential to be more."

"What about the Blackfyres?" Myrcella asked.

Tyene scoffed at that. "And whose fault was that? They may have chosen war against the Seven Kingdoms but it was the fat slob of a king who made the firepit for that Rebellion, not the Blackfyres. It was only those ambitious lords and ladies who hated Daeron who sparked it alongside Bittersteel."

"But they continued it." Sansa reminded .

"And ruined the good name of bastards everywhere." Tyene snipped. "Look at me and my sisters. We are all Sands yet do any of us desire the Martell name? Do we desire the position of Sunspear that is to be Ariannes? No. It's just a name in the end. My father always told me family is what matters at the end of the day. Who cares if the name is different."

Neither girl responded back right away, with them thinking and processing what was spoken.

For Sansa, she thought of Jon Snow. Her bastard half-brother did and sacrificed much for their House. He has Stark blood running through his veins and should've been treated better. And yet her mother treats him badly and Sansa had to sadly admit she was following her example. It was only with Roxas did things change as she hoped to mend what issues she formed with Jon.

For Myrcella, a certain individual came to mind.

"I remember a man named Ser Glendon Ball, son of Quentyn Ball." Began the princess. "He sought to prove himself to be a great knight, hoping to honor his father's memory. Yet he went through a number of complicated scenarios in order to make it happen. And he did so at the Tourney at Whitewalls."

Sansa scrunched her face a little. "I don't recall such a person. Let alone these Whitewalls."

"You should, 'cause he was a member of the Kingsguard during the reign of Aegon the Unlikely." Tyene added in.

Myrcella picked things up from there. "And Whitewalls was a keep owned by House Butterwell. It was located near the God's Eye at the Riverlands, but it was demolished at the end of the second Blackfyre Rebellion on Bloodraven's orders."

"How were you two able to know this?"

Myrcella and Tyene shared a look before voicing the answer. "Our uncles."

Sansa had to smack herself, realizing they most certainly would. While Lewyn Martell was a former member of the Kingsguard, Jamie Lannister is still part of the white cloaked brotherhood. There would be stories kept of each and every member who was part of their illustrious order. Keeping record of their feats so they won't be lost to time.

So it wouldn't be much of a surprise both men would regale the tales of their fallen brothers to the rest of their family.

"What could you tell me about this Glendon Ball?"

"To start with, he was originally named Glendon Flowers." Said the Dornish girl. "He fought tooth and nail to be sure everyone knew he preferred his father's name over his baseborn one. Proving that he was his father's son."

"Yet Glendon came across a snag when he took part of the Whitewall's tourney." Said the princess. "He was accused of stealing Lord Butterwell's dragon egg -the grand prize of the lists- yet it was just a set up by Gormon Peake because he refused to take the fall to let Daemon II Blackfyre win the lists."

"I don't understand. Why would this happen?"

"Gormon Peake needed to be sure all of the Blackfyre supporters invited to the event would see Daemon was a mighty warrior just like his father. They didn't have the support of Bittersteel and his Golden Company for some reason, so the man had to manipulate things. He bought many jousters, either with coins or promises, to lose against the Blackfyre pretender. Even convincing the master of games to rearrange the competitors to suit his conspiracy. If Daemon won the lists, he would solidify his support with the invited people and it would spread throughout the Kingdoms for an eventual uprising."

"Yet Glendon didn't. He saw it was unknightly and refused to take the bribe."

"This soon led to his accusation and him being tortured to eventually give out a false statement of his supposed crime."

"Luckily for him, he had the help of Ser Duncan the Tall who revealed this conspiracy in front of everyone present at Whitewall. Yet instead of Duncan taking part of the Trial by Combat and fighting as Glendon's champion, it was Glendon himself who fought to prove his innocence. Despite what injuries he endured, he was able to unhorse Daemon Blackfyre on the Trial by Combat through a joust."

"It wouldn't have happened if Glendon didn't have a number of honest people looking out for him. And after the experience, they became close friends. And this helped Glendon out considerably as through this friendship did he succeed in his dream of being in the Kingsguard."

"Good friends are important because they're people who see you for who you truly are and are accepting and don't care about the differences." Said Tyene. "Yes they clash and butt heads, but it's how they overcome their differences over time and resolve their issues will they know their friendship is worth it. One can't make blatant assumptions on their appearances. It merely helps bring in senses of difference and builds oneself overall."

The Northerner could only look away as she felt a bit more shame on her very being. She wondered if the teachings she learned from the Septas and Septons about bastards were entirely true or not.

"Hey Sansa, Myrcella, have either of yo- oh, Tyene, there you are."

The trio of girls turned to see none other than Roxas enter the room.

"Yes Roxas?" Tyene asked with a coy smile. "Were you looking for me?"

He nodded. "Yeah, are you all good to go for the Riverlands? Got everything packed and ready?"

"More or less."

"Good. I recommend you head on back and go to bed early. We'll be leaving before sunrise."

"Sunrise?" Tyene repeated in slight surprise.

Roxas shook his head, knowing a small argument was coming. "We have a lot of ground we need to cover and Vanitas won't be waiting for us. You guys also need to keep up with me."

"We would if you didn't move so fast." Was Tyene's flat response.

All the same, she stood from her seat and bade both Sansa and Myrcella goodbye before departing to do as Roxas had instructed.

"Is it true?" Sansa asked. "You have to leave so soon?"

"Unfortunately, yes. We can't delay our search." Roxas said, grim tone and expression on display. "Vanitas has already caused a whirlwind of damage and a psycho like him isn't one to sit idle. The more time we take here the more damage he does."

"As much as I would wish for you to stay," said Myrcella with a frown, "it would be incredibly selfish."

No. XIII sighed aloud. "Responsibilities of a Keybearer, as you already know."

Both girls looked upon the teen longingly as he walked over to a nearby window to gaze outside at the city below.

Myrcella cleared her throat after a moment, looking at Sansa.

"Is it alright that I have a moment alone with my betrothed, Sansa?" Myrcella asked politely.

Sansa once more felt a pang of jealousy shoot through her on the reminder. She wanted to be here, to stay and be by the boy that had claimed her heart. But she also remembered that Myrcella was still the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms in the end.

With some reluctance, the Northerner left the room. For she knew the blonde princess wanted to give a personal farewell to him.

She walked out of the door yet as soon as she was out of sight, pressed herself against the wall and listened to Myrcella saying her farewells to Roxas.

"How long do you figure you'll be gone?" Myrcella asked softly, getting up out of her chair to stand by Roxas who hadn't moved from the window.

The black cloaked teen exhaled, hand running through his blond hair.

"I don't know." Roxas admitted. "It could be weeks at the bare minimum to months at most. I doubt Vanitas will wanna hide for too long."

"Could… could you not teleport to the Riverlands as you did when you went to Winterfell?" Myrcella asked, remembering him telling her about his trip back up North.

Roxas shook his head in the negative.

"Normally, I would do just that but this time I got people comin' with me." he said.

"Can you not take them with you?"

"Only if I want them to be consumed by the Darkness." Roxas said darkly, placing a hand over his chest. "The reason I can teleport without any issue is because of this coat. The means in which I do it is extremely dangerous for anyone else who doesn't have it. It's the same way the Heartless get around."

A frown graced Myrcella's lips once more with worry in her eyes. Coming to a decision, she unclasped something from around her neck before holding it up for Roxas to see.

"Here." she said, gently taking his arm and placed it into her betrothed's gloved hand.

"What's this?" He asked, looking down at it.

Looking at the item in question, Roxas saw it was primarily gold in color with what he assumed was white gold placed into the etchings. It all resembled a roaring lion's head as it was attached to a thin, yet sturdy gold chain.

"It's my grandmother's pendant." Myrcella revealed. "Uncle Jamie gave it to me when I was ten. Told me it would fit me quite well."

Roxas blinked in surprise. "Are you sure you want to give this to me? I don't wanna end up-"

"I wouldn't trust it with anyone else." Myrcella said, smiling brightly.

"If you're sure, Myrcella." He said unsurely.

"I am."

He gazed down at the pendant before back up at Myrcella when he nodded, his hand closing around the pendant.

"I won't lose this." Roxas stated as he soon wore the Lannister pendant around his neck. "I promise."

"I know you will."

Silence befell the two as Myrcella felt her face begin to heat up as she continued staring at the teen with crystal blue eyes, so much more sharper than hers.

Letting out a slightly shaky sigh, Myrcella scrunched her face up to convey bravery as she decided that since this was going to be the last time she would see Roxas for some time, she would at least make it memorable.

She leaned closer, felt his body stiffen against her. He could have escaped her in a number of ways. Instead he kept close, refusing to retreat, even as she edged closer.

"There is a way most people would do before seeing another off to battle. Would you like to try it?"

Before Roxas could answer, Myrcella leaned further in and kissed him full on the lips.

This wasn't the first kiss they shared, but Roxas found himself almost unsurprised by it.

And yet…

*Badump*

Things were different this time. Something which he wondered why this feeling was coming once more within his chest.

*BA-DUMP BA-DUMP*

In a number of unknown moments, he returned the kiss. It was slow for starters, but eventually he was more receptive to it and no longer protesting like what he might've done previously. As this occured, Myrcella went through her instincts and kept massaging her lips towards his. She leaned further in, causing Roxas to push back and hold their place. He was surprised a bit more when he felt her tongue tapping against his lips, more so when he ended up opening his mouth. Their tongues soon met each other as they seemed sentient and danced. The two blondes began exploring, licking, flicking, nibbling and tasting each other, causing them both to feel sensations; more so with the princess. Myrcella mewled in utter delight as her breath was practically stolen from her. She ran out, even when she was breathing through her nose which caused her to pull away.

Their faces were flushed, eyes glazed slightly. Myrcella leaned forward and rested her forehead against his. "What do you think, Roxas?" She whispered.

*BA-DUMP BA-DUMP*

Roxas gulped in air as he tried to calm down this feeling and rapid beating within his chest. "It was... something."

Myrcella giggled as she leaned back and cupped his cheek with half-lidded eyes. "It was, wasn't it." She replied. "Would you perhaps like another example?"

Myrcella practically had to pat herself on the back, silently praying and greatly thanking both Arianne and Margaery for what advice they've given her. The opportunity was here and she honestly had to even thank Tyene for convincing her betrothed to open up more. She didn't know what she exactly did, but she would pay her back on their services.

From her maternal line, she was a Lannister and she will indeed pay back her debt at some point.

Unbeknownst to the betrothed couple, they were being watched.

From her hiding spot, Sansa looked on in sadness, jealousy and yearning.

The Stark girl recalled the few kisses she shared with Roxas. Her heart thumped in her chest and her face flushed against the candlelight on the memories.

Quickly, she moved as fast and away from that room as she wished for no one to see her in a sorrowful state.

She briefly ran into Jeyne along the way, who was finally coming back from using the privy. When asked where she was going, Sansa told her handmaiden and friend she wasn't feeling well and needed to retire to her room for the rest of the day. Sansa didn't wait for a response as she took off.

By the time he departed from Myrcella, Roxas was honestly glad he had his Organization coat with him. With his hood drawn up, he was able to hide the massive blush his face bore.

Bringing his fingers to his slightly bruised lips, he could still feel hers on top of how she tasted. And he didn't have to bring his digits to his neck to feel the beginning stages of a hickey forming.

Myrcella had marked him as hers. And oddly enough, he did the same to her. They had been driven by whatever instincts both had and proceeded further to perform such an act.

No doubt the princess will wear it like a badge of honor while he will bear it like one of embarrassment.

'If the others were to see it tomorrow, I won't hear the end of it.' He thought with a shudder. 'I swear, they're starting to drive me nuts.'

Sansa, Myrcella and Tyene were making him think a number of things lately. More importantly how he feels about them.

All three of them have made their intentions towards him clear. He admits, he was a little dense about it. He can blame inheriting that trait from Sora.

They desire him in ways beyond that of simple friends.

'Ah dang it, Axel.' Roxas dejectedly thought. 'I wish you were here. You'd be able to make sense of all this.'

Then again, he wondered just how his fiery best friend would explain all this to him.

He remembered back in the days with the Organization when Xion was feeling rather down and Axel said something about switches and buttons.

Whatever that meant.

All he could realize now was that he had unintentionally worked through them and had to pay for his actions.

Why were these feelings and thoughts with the three so troublesome?

Once making it to his room, he saw Chocho trot towards him.

"Hey little guy." Roxas snorted to himself. "Not really so little now, huh?"

His young Chocobo had grown considerably in these last few weeks, already reaching up to his knees, slightly above them even.

The gold featured creature warbled his series of chirps as his "father" petted him.

"Did you get anything to eat?" Chocho shook his head for a simple 'no'. "Got ya."

Getting out his meal for the evening, Roxas fed his avian companion.

As it chowed down, Roxas went to the nearby window and opened it. The cool air swept into the room as he saw the moon and starlight blanketing the sky.

Gazing up at the stars, No. XIII felt a sense of longing wash over him as he heard echoing sounds of laughter ringing in his ears followed by a clocktower bell tolling away.

He thought of friends long past both real and digital and wishing to see them again.

It shifted then to the three girls that have been on his mind these last few days and like that, his face turned crimson again.

He groaned aloud. "What a mess."

Roxas went over to his bed and promptly flopped down on it.

He closed his eyes to try to get some sleep in only for him to fail five seconds in.

His mind soon drifted towards earlier, where he recollected Jeyne Poole telling him and Myrcella of Sansa not returning. Something about not feeling well.

He wanted to properly say his farewell to her earlier, but he was caught up with his… session with Myrcella.

Once more his face flushed on the memory before he shook it away.

Seeing an opportunity, he hopped out of his window and started running up the wall. Once on the nearest rooftop, he made his way towards the Tower of the Hand.

In a matter of minutes, he ran up it's length and whirled around it to find Sansa's room. As he finally located it, Roxas spotted the Stark girl brushing her hair by a desk with a vanity mirror attached.

Rapping against the window, Roxas saw Sansa halt her action.

She looked around quizzically and wondered where the sound was coming from. Upon hearing the rapping once more, she was able to locate the source and practically jump in her seat upon seeing Roxas at her window.

In an instant, she practically ran towards it and opened it up to let the cool air inside.

"R-Roxas?" Sansa's expression changed into the same color as her hair. "Wh-what are you doing- wait, how in the world did you get up here?"

"Ran." Roxas said simply. "Up the side of the building."

Sansa gaped for a brief moment before laughing a second later. "I really should expect this sort of thing by now."

Roxas only grinned in response. "Care to let me in?"

"Yes, yes, by all means."

He whirled himself in and took several steps inside. He briefly gazed around the space as he didn't see Sansa become extremely flustered.

'He's in my room.' She thought, heart beating rapidly in her chest. 'He's in my room!'

Here she greatly tried to calm herself from what she witnessed earlier. Hoping she could relieve her worries, albeit for a time, before going to bed. It would help to possibly have a clearer head for tomorrow.

Yet that was completely thrown out of the window when Roxas literally showed up at her very window.

"Um, Roxas, if you don't mind me asking." She twirled a lock of her hair between her fingers. "Why did you come here?"

He turned to face her and she saw him squirm slightly before coughing into his hand in an awkward fashion.

"Well… um…" Roxas scratched the side of his head in a jittery manner. "You see I just… wanted to see you. To say goodbye before I head out."

Sansa felt her heart freeze in place for a few moments then promptly skyrocket with her entire being burning in embarrassment and… desire.

Roxas cleared his throat, before looking around the room.

"So, is uh… is everything alright with you?"

Sansa blinked at the sudden question, laughing a second later.

"What now?" She asked in bemusement. "What does that mean?"

"Just asking, you know." he said awkwardly. "Things have been a bit hectic so I've just been making sure everyone's alright."

A glimmer of amusement danced in Sansa's eyes as she walked over to her bed and on it was her growing Direwolf Lady resting comfortably there.

Lady's ears perked up before relaxing as her partner gently scratched her head and the back of her ears.

She wanted to tell him.

Needed to, really. But she also knew that he was to depart soon on a heroic journey. A journey she had only read of when she was far younger.

'By the Old Gods and New.' Sansa's mind raged. 'It's my old stories come to life. A dashing hero for all the maidens to swoon over rushing off to face a horde of danger for the innocent. Why did it have to be real? Why him?'

"Sansa?"

"I'm fine, Roxas." Sansa partly lied. "I am rather homesick. I miss Robb and Bran and Rickon and… even Jon. I miss Winterfell."

He nodded in understanding. "Yeah, your siblings back in the North still miss you, your sister and father. They all send their regards."

She smiled at him. "I miss my mother as well. I wonder if she's doing alright... especially with what happened."

"We can only hope." Roxas remarked, walking over to where he entered the room from. "Cloud is there so hopefully everything will be resolved soon enough."

He leaned against the railing of the balcony and stared out at the city.

"But knowing how things are gonna be…" Roxas grimaced.

"Do you fear what is to come?" Sansa asked from her bed.

He didn't answer at first, back turned to her as he gazed out at the city.

"I would be lying if I wasn't." He admitted. "I fear for who we might lose along the way."

'Just like father.' Thought Sansa.

Her father was never one to mince words of his fears nor of his hardships.

About how those who do not understand fear are those who would find themselves rushing towards an early grave.

Sansa did remember what Tyene said earlier. With girls kept in their towers with their fantasies.

In a way, it applies to boys as well as they seek glory. Not realizing the horrors they would face when brought into battle.

Yet the blonde in her very room wasn't a boy at all, he was a man who had so much placed on his shoulders.

She noticed Roxas slouch his elbows against the balcony railing and hang his head slightly.

Wordlessly, she walked over to stand by him and with no hesitation, placed her hand over his.

"Are you alright?" Sansa asked.

Roxas gazed up at her eyes and shook his head.

"I don't know yet," he admitted. "But maybe I will be, in time."

Sansa only nodded and the two stood together as the sights and sounds of the city in the distance.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yeah." He said before turning to her. With how the moon and starlight shined down on her, it seemed to highlight her auburn hair brighter and even parts of her eyes. "You are…"

…..

…..

…..

…..

"What?"

Sansa was completely put off guard on the comment. Her neck cranking her head right towards him as her eyes widened in surprise.

"Uh..." Was all Roxas managed to say as his face started to burn. "I-I meant-"

"You think I'm beautiful?" She said with her face reddening up as well.

"W-Well you always looked beautiful, like for a while now. Just can't remember when…"

Whatever little inquiry tried to rise was swiftly struck down as her heart soared upon hearing those words.

Sansa only further blushed at everything Roxas was saying in his embarrassed ramble. Taking the plunge, she decided it was now or never.

Stepping a little closer to him, she spoke. "I want to be selfish."

Roxas stopped his rambling in time to see the Stark girl lean in and kiss him oh so softly. His mind shut down as her soft delicate lips kissed him once more ever since the night they danced.

*Badump*

She soon retracted back, seeing Roxas was unresponsive due to his surprise. The Stark girl felt horrible and embarrassed and was about to leave not just by his side but the room entirely when Roxas stopped her by gently taking her hand.

Perhaps it was the present situation. Her worries about getting the best of her, given what may come in the future. She couldn't go after him, due to their present relationships, but here and now she didn't care. Her hands settled on the taut plane of his chest. Roxas didn't budge. River blue flicked up to deep sky blue.

*BA-DUMP BA-DUMP*

As the heart within her chest started to beat and skip more and louder, her hand felt the same feeling from Roxas' own.

In hindsight, Sansa wasn't sure who moved first; only that someone did on this next encounter; because quite suddenly they were just there. His mouth was warm on her, tentative, careful, afraid to break her. None of that mattered. She kissed him fiercely in return; pouring out all her jealousy, all her ire, all her passion in a single instant. Everything fell into a red haze as his hands settled against her waist, rocking her slowly as her arms ensnared his neck.

'We must stop.' The small, logical part of her brain argued. 'This ain't right.'

'No.' Said something else, something primal and stronger. 'It is right. He makes us complete.'

The light within her started burning stronger as the kiss went on, just as the passion she was giving him.

Let the Others take that logical notion. Sansa didn't want to stop. She wanted his hands on her body, his lips on her, and that warm light within her very core needed to burn. As the kiss went on with their tongues soon dancing, something awoke deep inside her.

She wanted this. Needed it.

The two of them were blushing like mad as they exhaled roughly, locking eyes once parting from each other.

More tricks of the natural night light shone on their faces, making them see their respective blue eyes shine ever further as if they were stars.

"Sansa…"

"I love you." She whispered in complete honesty. "For the longest time I have..."

Before he could properly process what she confessed, her lips fastened to his again. She mewled ever more as she drew her body closer to his. Their respective taste and smell overcame them as they started desiring more. Her hands combed through his hair as she felt one of his rakes through her long tresses.

Before long, she ended up pulling him from the window sill to his bed as she tackled him soon after like a hungry wolf.

She wanted to let go of all responsibility. For once in her life, she truly wanted to be selfish and claim what should be hers like a wolf with her prey, her mate.

For Roxas, his mind was going completely haywire with a burning desire now roaring through his body.

Instinct was taking over as now he found himself flipping her over with him on top.

Sansa gasped aloud, wrapping her arms and legs tightly around him as she grabbed the zipper on his coat and pulled it down.

Fighting for rational control, not wanting to compromise their relationship, Roxas swiftly made a decision.

"I'm sorry." He said, pulling away from her, panting heavily.

Before Sansa could have a chance to process what he whispered out, he said something else.

"Sleep."

In an instant, a glow surrounded her before she was out like a light.

The greater Nobody sighed as he heard Lady trot towards the bed.

Looking at the direwolf, he petted her head.

"Don't worry, she's just asleep. She'll wake in the morning." He said reassuringly. "Sorry for taking your spot."

Lady simply whined in content, hopping back up to the bed and placing her head right beside Sansa.

He readjusted the Stark girl so she may sleep comfortably instead of the awkward sprawl she was moments ago.

Making around the room, Roxas snuffed out the candles. The only light left within the bed chamber was from the natural light coming from outside.

Before he left, Roxas looked upon Sansa's sleeping form. He couldn't help but gaze upon her longer than needed.

He was right with what he said earlier of her being beautiful. She had changed much since their first encounter at Winterfell all those months ago. It was just her attitude back then which prevented her from becoming what she was now.

"Don't worry, Sansa. I'll come back, I promise."

Being drawn in, Roxas leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on her lips before leaving her sleeping form and her room entirely via Dark Corridor.

If he were to look back, he would've seen a smile slowly forming on her lips.

-Vaes Dothrak-

The starlit sky encompassed the land. And within a certain area of the Dothraki city, a feast was being held in honor of Khal Drogo, his wife and their soon to be born son, the Khal of Khals.

Dany sat with her three handmaidens, Xion and Jorah as they were having a good time alongside everyone else within the massive tent. Music filled the air with the roaring fire in the middle in order to cook a number of meat and a mighty stew. Wine was in surplus as the Dothraki women danced while the men occasionally joined while enjoying their own activities.

After making a bit of conversation with one of Drogo's bloodriders, the man's wife soon voiced a question. "Where is my brother? He should be here."

Dany merely wanted Viserys to be a part of the celebration. For all intents and purposes, he was still family.

"Last I heard, he was in the Western Market." Said Xion.

"Whatever for?"

The answer was soon received when they heard Viserys' voice.

"Daenerys!"

Looking over, the group saw him stumble into the tent. His face was a tad flushed, his normally perfect hair was an utter mess, and his amethyst eyes were bloodshot. Apparently they now knew what he had been doing for all this time ever since the ceremony earlier that day.

With a drunkard step, Viserys marched forward. "Where's my sister?" He demanded. "Where is she? I'm here for the feast! The whore's feast!"

Looking onward, Jorah was able to see his hand was clenching against the sword tied at his waist.

"Stop him."

Jorah didn't have to be told twice as he got up to halt whatever action the Targaryen prince was about to enact. Xion, meanwhile, stayed by the Khaleesi's side in case of anything.

Jorah reached out and touched Viserys by the shoulder. "Come along now-"

"Get your hands off me! No one touches the dragon!" Viserys screeched out.

From a small distance away, Xion was able to hear Drogo and a few of his bloodriders joke in their native tongue about Viserys.

The Targaryen turned and looked at Drogo with a slightly drunken slur. "Khal Drogo! I'm here for the feast!"

The Khal said some words and pointed to a corner of the tent as the exiled prince looked rather confused. "What did he say?" He asked aloud.

Xion was the one to answer. "He says there is a place for you at this feast." She said, soon jabbing her thumb in the same direction Drogo pointed towards. "And it's back there."

Viserys soon snarled. "That is no place for a king!"

"You are no king." Drogo managed to say in the common tongue.

This got the Targaryen prince to unsheathe his sword with a murderous expression, causing the tent's occupants to cease their enjoyment.

"Now you've done it." Xion muttered out.

Viserys… You've gone goofed… in the worst possible way.

With this action, Daenerys' brother had broken a sacred law within this city and he'll be severely punished for it.

"Viserys, calm down." Jorah said, trying to dissuade the situation by slowly coming in close.

This got Viserys to swing his sword at Mormont, who avoided the hit. "Keep away from me!" Said the exiled prince.

"Please, Viserys." Dany began. "It's forbidden-"

Viserys whirled around and gave her a crooked smile. "There she is."

With this said, he walked forward with the sword aimed at Daenerys.

"Put the sword down, Viserys." Xion warned him as she stepped in front of Dany in order to protect her.

"I don't need to hear anything from you." The drunken Targaryen all but snarled.

"You're gonna have them try to kills us-"

Viserys barked out a laugh. "They can't harm us. They can't shed blood in their sacred city." He soon pointed his sword at the general direction of his sister. "But I can."

Both Jorah and the bloodriders moved to intervene, but Drogo held up his hand, silently ordering them to stand down for now. They relented to the command as everyone else focused on what's unfolding now.

"I want what I came for." Said Viserys as motioned his head towards his savage of a good-brother. "I want the crown he promised me. He bought my sister, but he never paid for you."

"I'm here because I care for her. Nothing can buy me out of that." Xion snarled, taking a step back to be closer to Daenerys in a protective manner.

Dany would've smiled if it weren't for this present situation.

Viserys scoffed. "Whatever, Key whore. Now tell him I want what was bargained for or I'm taking my sister back. He can keep the baby, though. I'll cut it out and leave it for him."

Leather gloves tightened for a brief moment as they soon relaxed. Their owner narrowed her blue eyes in an even manner.

In mere moments, Xion quickly translated the demand while not breaking eye contact with the Targaryen prince before her.

Hearing this, Drogo glared at his good-brother.

The Khal never liked the bratty man-child, only tolerating him for the sake of the Moon of his Life. But the stacked actions within the span of minutes had pushed things too far.

This weak excuse of a man was basically breaking every rule an intelligent person would do in his present situation. Drawing out a blade from its scabbard within Vaes Dothrak with violent intentions, check. Threatening the Khal's wife in front of many, check. Threatening to kill the unborn baby of a potential prophecy being fulfilled, check.

Thus the course of action was clear now.

Drogo then spoke in his native tongue, to which Viserys gave the quick response. "What's he saying?"

"He says yes." Said his sister from behind No. i. "You shall have it. A golden crown, one which men shall tremble to behold."

Viserys smiled. "Good. That's all I wanted." He soon stepped back and lowered his sword. "All I wanted was what was promised…"

Drogo rose from his seat and walked over. Seeing this, Xion moved away slightly to give the married couple some space.

The Khal looked at the Nobody with a warm, thankful look. Soon breaking his gaze from the Keybearer, Drogo looked at his wife with a loving expression as he rubbed her belly. In response Dany rubbed his hand with a small smile.

Soon the smiles ended. A moment later, Drogo spoke in his native tongue. "Break his arm."

In an instant, a pair of bloodriders grabbed Viserys with one of them breaking his arm, causing the Targaryen to drop his sword.

Viserys yeled in pain as he was soon dragged some distance away. "No! NO! You cannot do this to me! I am the Dragon. I AM THE DRAGON! I want my crown!"

The bloodriders forced the exiled Westerosi prince to his knees. Their Khal walked over to the fire pit as he withdrew an assortment of gold medallions he kept on his person. The pot was already empty from food and was about to be refilled with another batch if it weren't for Viserys' recent display.

Tossing the items in, Drogo stood without expression as he gazed upon the gold medallions starting to heat up within the pot. Feeling a little impatient, the Khal looked over to Xion.

"Xion, fire." He said, while pointing to the pot.

Without a question, the Nobody complied.

Quickly casting Fire, she threw the spell towards the fire pit, making the roaring fire grow hotter and larger. This caused the gold within the pot to melt faster and lose its shape.

As this went on, Jorah walked over to Daenerys and spoke softly. "Look away, Khaleesi."

"No." Dany replied.

Seeing this all happen, Viserys soon realized what was about to happen. He then began to live up to his moniker as the Beggar Prince. "Dany! Xion! Tell them! Make them! Please!"

Exhaling a sigh, Xion calmly walked towards Viserys.

The people within the tent looked at the Keybearer with a questioning expression, wondering if she was going to interfere with the Dothraki judgement.

Viserys gazed upon her with maddening hope in his eyes. She was a great warrior who can trounce everyone here and take him out of this backwater city. He will greatly reward her for her merritts for this.

However, before he could speak, his face was met with a leather clad fist.

His head snapped towards the side as he was heavily struck by the dark haired Nobody.

This course of action soon earned a number of satisfied responses by the onlookers.

Dany appeared indifferent while Jorah frowned a little in disapproval.

"Really wanted to do that for quite a while." Said Xion as she stepped away with a glare. "Viserys, I'm sad to say this but whatever happens next… you only brought this upon yourself."

Drogo came walking in with the pot of melted gold. He gave the dark coated girl an approving nod before he focused his attention at Viserys.

With his towering form hovering over the defenseless dragon, the mighty Khal spoke.

"A crown for a king."

Lifting the pot into the air, Drogo poured it's contents on Viserys' head.

"AHHHEEEEEEEEEEE!"

The sound of agony could perhaps be heard from some distance away as the molten gold touched Viserys' head and started burning his flesh. The rich metal swiftly destroyed his hair and scalp. It leaked down his face, leaving burned trenches wherever it went. His feet hammered against the dirt. And with a final blood curdling scream, Drogo's bloodriders let go of Viserys and he fell utterly silent on the floor.

Looking onward, everyone within the tent could practically see the gold hardening around Viserys' head to form a permanent golden crown… or helmet as the Targaryen purple eyes soon became lifeless.

Drogo smirked in triumph as he gazed upon his now dead good-brother. He indeed was able to work around killing this pathetic person as he or anyone else within the tent had shed a single drop of blood. The taboo law had not been broken.

From where she stood, Dany took in the sight of her late brother.

'No,' she thought as she didn't shed a single tear. 'The kind, loving brother I once knew was gone long ago. This man was merely an abusive stranger. He was no dragon. Fire can't harm a dragon.'

Well… technically it was molten metal but the point still stood.

Xion too stared at the lifeless body. A weird feeling came over her as it happened. A sense of satisfaction if it were the case. The one person she had hated the most ever since coming to this World was finally dead… and she had helped.

There was this sick pain in her chest, which told her this was wrong yet was sadly right.

Despite her interventions and influence, Dany no longer had to deal with Viserys anymore with his verbal, mental and physical abuse.

Seeing the conflicted state her best friend was in, the pregnant Khaleesi walked over and took her hand into hers. In mere seconds, she gave it a comforting squeeze in which Xion returned in kind.

-End Chapter-

AN:

Once more, life had to take a driver's seat while writing sat in the back. Work has taken much out of me, but at least doing better at least to get this out for you all.

Again, I take a lot of reviews into consideration. But I do need to bring up one thing about the Whispers from FF7 Remake… who said I was using them? Sure I'm honestly tempted, but those guys ain't being used. I recommend reading the books as there's someone doing such things in making a number of things happen. I won't spoil it now, but they'll make their appearance later in the story on what I intend to do before the drastic changes will occur after season/book 1 events.

FMW: Yeah, since we're drawing near the end of season one, and that was a journey in itself to get there, the more crazy changes are to come. See, in Marvel's latest show What if, it really goes to show that a single ripple, a single instance of change is all that is needed to start the cascade of change to come. Season 2 is on the horizon now. In the final stretch of season one which is crazy to think about really. We're only in season one. So hope you guys are ready for more!

Anyways, be sure to review this story guys! Would like the criticisms. Please and thank you!

R&R

In the dark, desert landscape, several individuals were dragging a body across the dirt. Far behind them, the Dothraki city of Vaes Dothrak was brightened by the countless torchlights and bonfires for tonight's festivities.

Even if they were slaves, they would've been able to enjoy things to a degree. Yet each of them had to quickly follow orders when their masters called upon them to fulfill a certain task.

This was one such task, disposing of a body.

The slaves within this group only knew of this fresh corpse they were taking care of had broken a serious law of the city. He served out his punishment and must be taken care of so the body won't stain the city ever more.

From the moonlight, the melted gold briefly shone in the darkness. Yet it would never be further from that from it's former brilliance.

Once far enough from the city, the two slaves quickly dropped the corpse and went back so they could be with their fellow slaves. And just to be sure they didn't take off, the Dothraki rider oversaw the action personally.

Sparing one last glance at the corpse, the rider spat at it before ushering his horse to move onward and follow the slaves.

The cold, unmoving body of Viserys Targaryen lay there in the earth whilst in the background, faint chants and cheers went on. He would be food for the vultures and eventually worms in the dirt. In time, it would be far unrecognizable.

All was silent where he lay.

…

…

…

*GASP*

In an instant, Viserys' body shuddered as the Beggar King began gulping in pained breaths of air whilst twitching about.

"The… Dragon…" Viserys croaked out, voice all but shattered after his deafening scream mere minutes ago. "I am the… Dragon."

His right arm shakily managed to move, albeit barely, up to his head. The hand flinched as did his entire body really upon feeling the gold melted upon his head.

Every spasm he did only added to the excruciating and much as he wanted to scream, he could not.

All that came out was a raspy cry of agony.

He could feel himself going again.

The darkness closing in around his vision. His body feeling lighter and lighter…

The darkness…

The Darkness!

Viserys' eyes snapped open and his Amethyst eyes looked around rapidly at the sight of Shadows and Neoshadows all rising up around him from pools of Darkness.

Upon instinct, he whirled his arm towards where his sword was kept. Unfortunately, it was not on his person

For unbeknownst to him, Khal Drogo had taken it from the corpse and gave it to Xion to use it for whatever she saw fit.

Viserys grunted and sniveled in terror as the creatures that had plagued the journey to Vaes Dorthrak hobbled and drew in closer and closer to him.

He could only whimper as a Neoshadow placed its hands atop his back, followed by another and another.

The last male Targaryen could only struggle helplessly in pain as the Heartless surrounded him.

He soon felt something. Something he never thought was possible. Something he never would have dreamed of truly having.

Power...

Indescribable power!

Slowly but surely, the melted gold around his hair began softening and rather than falling off his head it began shifting and molding itself upon it.

Viserys didn't even realize he was now upon his knees running his hands through his now pure golden hair instead of silvery-gold.

A moment later, he lurched forward, clutching his chest with one hand whilst the other was keeping him from completely falling over.

It was then that he felt something falling from his eyes and cheeks. Bringing some fingers to them, he could barely see it was blood.

What he didn't know was that his signature Valyrian eyes slowly bled. Both in blood and with color. From the source of the streams of blood, his amethyst eyes slowly changed to sickly gold.

Viserys Targaryen soon found strength coursing within him from every cell of his body as he rose to his feet.

Gazing at the Heartless surrounding him, he gave a silent command out on a whim. A moment later, they all complied by kneeling before him; or at least their own equivalent of such action.

A chuckle soon escaped his lips. And over time he soon let out a boisterous cackle as his mind finally snapped.

"I am the Dragon!" Viserys screamed aloud, Darkness erupting around him before consuming him entirely.

All that had been left was the echoes of his maniacal laughter.