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.

34. You Win or You Die

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 34: You Win or You Die

In the border between the Riverlands and the Westerlands, a large crimson red sea of tents could be seen from miles beyond. Those who presently occupy this plot of land were a grand host of 60,000 Lannister men; both servants and soldiers.

A number of them originated from the many Westerland Houses while the rest were from those who were traversing back home from King's Landing. Normally this amount of people weren't necessary in order to protect Lord Tywin Lannister on his venture back to Casterly Rock. No, they were here for a reason.

But they weren't here to protect the Great, Old Lion. They were here to prepare for war.

Within one of the vast amounts of tents, Tywin Lannister was draining the blood of a stag his men had hunted down earlier into a bucket. He would've had one of the butchers prepare it for supper later and preserve the hide, but the Old Lion ordered them not to.

The reason?

"Now, Tommen, once this has more or less bled out dry, especially washed, you best make the proper incisions here and here."

Tommen watched on as his grandfather made a series of cuts along the stag's hind legs where the tendons were by the hooves all the way down to the top of it's rump from the "seams". On its front legs, the same thing went on but towards it's ribs.

"After that, you'll need to tie down the legs of one side so it won't twist about on you." Came Tywin's instruction as he used rope to tie the dead beast's right side down to the table. "If we weren't in a tent, we would have this hanging off a rope or chain and all four legs spread out. Either by hanging it from a tree or indoors from the rafters."

Ever since leaving the capital, Tywin was using much of his free time to properly instruct his grandson. He knew Pycelle did a decent job on his lessons towards Tommen, but there were things one can't learn from a maester.

One such thing was fishing and hunting. And this time, Tywin needed Tommen's hands to get dirty.

People forget… One can't change the course of history, let alone knowing how to rule without getting their hands dirty.

Tywin held out a six inch curved sharpened knife to Tommen, gesturing to him to take hold of it. With a little bit of hesitation, the child took it.

"Now, I'll need you to carefully cut through the flesh from it's genitals all the way to it's ribs." He ordered. "This is going to be different from the fish you had to previously cut up."

Tommen nodded as he stepped towards the dead stag and inserted the blade at the designated area. He struggled when he was slowly carving his way up, due to how thick the meat was.

"Remember, keep the blade up so it won't cut through the organs." Said Tywin, who carefully oversaw the incisions. "Especially not the bladder. We don't want to taint any of the meat. From there, carefully cut through the flesh so we can get more exposed."

It'll take a while for Tommen to completely gut out the stag, but it'll be necessary for his first time performing the act. And he'll be quicker in doing so if he keeps up with this trade.

"It's hot." Was Tommen's comment as some remnant blood splashed onto him. "And it's tough around the fat."

"Of course they are. And once done, I will show you how to properly skin this animal."

It wasn't the first time Tywin saw Tommen squeamish on something of this category, whether it be seeing an animal hunted down and prepared before him. Robert had greatly neglected doing such a task and Cersei did a piss poor job in encouraging her second son to take part in such activities. The Old Lion wanted to be sure his progeny would grow out of his softer side and properly harden whether he liked it or not.

Tywin heard the tent flap open with someone entering. Glancing from the corner of his eye, the Old Lion saw who it was before looking back to continue seeing Tommen's lesson.

"Attacking him was stupid. In broad daylight, no less." Tywin said to the new arrival. "And I've said this time and time again to you: Lannisters don't act like fools." Before the person could speak back, he was interrupted. "Are you gonna say something clever? Go on, say something clever."

"...Catelyn Stark took my brother. I wasn't about to let that go unanswered. You certainly wouldn't."

The Kingslayer had arrived at the Lannister camp not long ago. It honestly took him days to finally catch up with his father's forces after his departure from King's Landing.

Goes to show how effective he trained his soldiers in traversing a large stretch of land with a large force of men.

Upon arriving, Jamie was expecting him to work through documents in a makeshift office. The Old Lion still conducts business while he's out traveling, no matter what.

What he didn't expect to see was him teaching Tommen how to butcher and skin a deer.

Instincts started to rise, wanting him to stop this, yet he couldn't.

Tywin scoffed before asking his son a question. "Why is he still alive?"

Jaime blinked upon hearing this. "Tyrion?"

"Ned Stark."

Hearing the clarified answer, Jamie gave a response. "I was going to take him down from his high horse, but someone interfered."

Tywin scoffed at that. "Cloud Strife showed up to stop you from your needles "interference". I may be old, but I'm not stupid. My men told me what happened. Not yours, mine."

Jamie put up a brave front, not only before his father but Tommen as well. "It doesn't matter. Strife interfered before I could continue further. I won't have some sellsword get away with this dishonor."

Tywin chuckled with a shake of his head. "You forget, that sellsword was able to help slay what became of Gregor. Did you also forget what that man did prior to his change? And you spend too much time worrying about what people would think of you."

"I could care less about what people think." Jaime dismissed.

Tywin broke his attention away from overseeing Tommen digging out the deer's innards and focused more on his son. "That's what you want people to think of you."

"It's the truth." The Kingsguard said with finality but his father knew better.

"When you hear them whispering Kingslayer behind your back, doesn't it bother you?" Tywin stated more than he asked.

Jaime clenched both his fists and his teeth tightly as he briefly looked down at the ground. "Of course it bothers me."

Tywin huffed as he looked back to Tommen for the briefest of moments before helping him out a little.

"Here grandson." The Old Lion instructed. "Cut along down here. The blood will spill out faster that way."

Tommen, while slightly pale, nodded all the same and did as his grandfather instructed. He briefly looked over to Jaime who only gave a strained smile and nodded encouragingly.

Tywin then turned to his eldest son again.

"The lion doesn't concern himself with the opinions of the sheep. I suppose I should be grateful that your vanity got in the way of your recklessness or a maester would be tending to your injuries. You're lucky he chose to spare your life rather than take it."

At that, Jaime scoffed. "Oh please, Strife wouldn't-"

"He most certainly would if you provoked him." Tywin interrupted his son. "I've seen him fight, just like Roxas. Both have a keen mind for battle, wisdom and skills many haven't seen in decades, let alone millenia; magical skills. Strife only spared your life because he took pity on you. I'm not saying you'd be completely useless but both of them still have their youth."

At first, Jamie felt undermined before looking at his father in utter astonishment. "You… admire them?"

"I respect them." Tywin corrected. "Both come from no noble family or name; near unknowns, just like Ventus. Both have quickly become influential and very recognizable, more so with Roxas given who his father is. After what they've done within these past months, people from Dorne to the Wall will know their names in due time. And both will bring out a legacy that'll be around for years. A legacy to be remembered, admired and respected. Unlike the one that has been placed upon yours."

Once more, Jaime forcibly reigned in the rage he had within.

Tywin then looked to his son with a raised brow. "Have you already forgotten the legacy left behind by Ventus? I am well aware of the respect you held towards him. Many people did and now, the same goes for his son. More than I can say for most sons and their fathers."

Jamie merely glared at his father upon hearing that last part.

His father has what many people throughout Westeros desire: wealth, power; yet he craves more and he'd do anything to get it.

What his father's ultimate purpose was oddly simple: a strong legacy.

From what Jamie understood that no matter what obstacles and struggles his father went through in life, all which he had accomplished could more or less fade away in a couple of generations. Yes his name would still be in books and songs, but the full weight behind it all would be lessened over time.

After all, no one can truly compete with time and death.

Aegon the Conqueror and his sister-wives had established a legacy which would be forever remembered throughout the world. And what Tywin Lannister made so far was striking fear into his enemies, which would be forever depicted in the Rains of Castamere.

Yet that wasn't enough.

Every decision and action his father makes is all for building and establishing his legacy. And if there was a benefit presented to him, the Old Lion would seize it within a heartbeat.

"Despite your altercation with Strife, my men in Kings Landing told me he went to retrieve Tyrion. He's someone who will be a valuable ally in the years to come if we act accordingly." Tywin informed Jamie. "Cloud is doing his part for our House so we must do ours."

"He's a mercenary hired by Ned Stark to bodyguard his House, how in the world is he doing his part for our House?" Jaime challenged.

Tywin gazed upon his eldest son in slight disappointment. "Have you missed the part where it was he who's saving your brother? As I said, he has done his part and now it is our turn."

"And what exactly is our part?"

Tywin adjusted the grip Tommen had on the knife and directed him to cut along the upper portions of the Stag's body now.

"You have placed us in a difficult position, Jamie. We are more or less prepared for war, even before declaring it. We are after all in a good, strong position." Said the Lord of Casterly Rock. "Vanitas has made his return and we all must get ready to face off against him and this Organization XIII he is a part of. But because of what you've done, you've made us vulnerable. Something which needs to be rectified. All due to you being blind to your affections towards your brother."

'At least someone has to.' Thought Jamie, holding back a snarl against his father.

"20,000 men." Tywin began. "I'm giving you a third of our forces here. You'll take them to Catelyn Stark's girlhood home of Riverrun and only there, reminding her that Lannisters pay their debts. And if you run into any Heartless and Unversed, you will act accordingly and deal with them immediately."

Yes, what the Tully woman had done was indeed a slight towards House Lannister. Something which needed to be rectified. But in another perspective, this was nothing more than a pissing contest.

After all, these pissing contests are how lords judge one another's strength, and woe to any man who shows weakness. And if a woman was a "contestant", she'll need to piss twice as hard if she hopes to win.

"...I didn't realize you placed such a high value on my brother's life."

"He's a Lannister." Tywin laughed, though it was mirthful and hollow at best. "He might be the lowest of the Lannisters but he's one of us. And every day he remains a prisoner, the less our name commands respect."

"...So the lion does concern himself with the opinions of the sheep-"

"It's not an opinion, it's a fact." Tywin interrupted with extreme authority. "If another House can seize one of our own and hold them captive with impunity, we are no longer a House to be feared. Your mother's dead. Before long I'll be dead. And you. And your brother and your sister and all of her children. All of us dead; all of us rotting in the ground, one way or another. It's the family name that lives on. It's all that lives on. Not your personal glory, not your honor, but family. Do you understand?"

Jamie could only nod in response.

It wasn't exactly Jamie's opinion, but the opinion of many within the Household that Tywin only cared for the Lannister name, not the family.

He can still remember an incident years ago. Something he had overheard between his father and his uncle Gerion. It was after all one of the last few times he had seen, let alone heard of his one uncle before he left Casterly Rock.

Gerion was pleading towards his eldest brother to legitimize his bastard daughter -Joy Hill- so she can perhaps have a better life than what he could help provide. Joy's mother was lowborn and had died at childbirth, leaving Gerion in a difficult position to raise his only child.

At least his uncle was being a responsible man and took her in, instead of leaving her at an orphanage.

Wanting the best out of his daughter, Gerion wanted Joy to bear the Lannister name and have a secured future with their House. And in doing so, he basically pleaded on his hands and knees to make it happen.

Unlike other Lords and their bastards, Tywin wasn't exactly willing to let them live in Casterly Rock unless a certain fee was paid towards his House and his standards. And the price was rather high, given the situation involved his own brother of all people.

What Gerion had to go through was truly unfair, just like when his father renewed the arranged marriage between his aunt Genna to Ser Emmon Frey after some argument.

For he had to venture towards Old Valyria and retrieve their lost ancestral Valyrian greatsword Brightroar.

As compensation for this venture, Tywin will let Joy live in Casterly Rock, but as a servant. She won't be harmed at all as she was still of their blood, but nothing more until Gerion came back with Brightroar. Tywin even swore on his late wife's honor and resting place to make it solid as a deal such as this won't be broken amongst his family.

Some deal that was.

Jamie knew at the time and to this day the underlying purpose of this "venture" was for. It was a means of exiling Gerion from their House in all but name for sleeping and impregnating a lowborn. Basically everyone knew the expedition was a one-way trip with no actual means of return.

As far as Jamie knows, his bastard cousin still lives in Casterly Rock and works in the kitchens to this day. So at least his father still honors the arrangement. But as far as everyone else knows, Gerion is basically dead as he hasn't returned since leaving Lannisport.

All for the good of the name Lannister.

And don't get him started with what happened with Tyrion… and Tysha.

"You're blessed with abilities that few men possess. You are blessed to belong to the most powerful family in the kingdoms. And you are still blessed with youth. And what have you done with them? You've served as a glorified bodyguard to two kings: one a madman, the other a drunk."

As Jamie stood there hearing his father's accusations, he couldn't help but think of a number of things.

Yes he basically gave up much in his life. Giving up his inheritance of Casterly Rock and ruling the Westerlands. A means so he could join the Kingsguard.

Objectively, Jamie was living something many boys could ever dream of being in. Something many would give their lives to be a part of with utmost envy.

He was living in the royal palace, eating from the royal kitchen, being trained by the best there are and hardly having to protect the king unless necessary. Not to mention his name was already immortalized in the history books.

In a way, Jamie was living in complete luxury as long as he fulfilled a number of tasks on the daily.

Yet such a thing will never satisfy his father. For him being in the Kingsguard harmed his legacy. A brotherhood which slowly became a shadow of its former self. A brotherhood which is barely holding itself together.

Things could have been different if Jamie had more brothers and if he wasn't his father's "perfect" child.

Tywin walked up to his son and stared hard into his eyes. "The future of our family will be determined in these next months. We could establish a dynasty that will last a thousand years. Or we could collapse into nothing, as the Targaryens did."

Twin now faced his son again, though this time, he placed his hand on the back of the young Lions head and gazed upon him intently. "I need you to become the man you were always meant to be. Not next year. Not tomorrow. Now."

If Jamie didn't know any better, he was processing his father bluntly asking -if not demanding- to finally put his family duty before those of the Kingsguard.

"And what of Strife?"

"In due time, he will eventually be dealt with; one way or another. He is too big of a sellsword. And like all swords, they can be broken."

"And if not?"

Tywin halted momentarily, looking back at Jaime.

"You said it yourself and have seen what that man is capable of." Jaime reminded him. "How exactly are you to deal with someone like that?"

The Old Lion didn't respond, turning back around and focused his attention back to his grandson, never sparing Jamie a second glance, who left the tent to do his duty.

-The Red Keep Godswoods-

The sun was bright and the breeze was cooling. It even helped with the present environment as the pleasant smells in the air helped bring a calming effect, to a degree.

This place was the godswood of the Red Keep and it overlooks the Blackwater Rush. It's an acre of elm, alder and black cottonwood. Unlike the weirwoods of older godswoods, the Red Keep had two heart trees. One is a typically large weirwood with the signature masculine face carved into the bark countless millennia ago. The other is a great oak covered in smokeberry vines with the red dragon's breath growing below the oak.

Sitting on a wooden bench near the weirwood tree was Ned Stark, who waited patiently and reflected on a number of things.

It's been a few days since Roxas and his company had left the capital. And with their absence, a notable void was perhaps seen by all.

There were no doubt complaints for his extended leave, for starters.

The Hand heard mixed messages coming from the Sept of Baelor. The High Septon arrived at the Red Keep the other day and voiced the displeasure of many followers of his course of action in sending Roxas away from the capital. Stating countless lives will be doomed and damned to a fate worse than death.

This was rather similar to what many in Court had vocalized in the past few days in terms of having Roxas' protection.

Honestly, he's fairly confident that should Roxas indeed marry Myrcella, they're going to have to get used to the fact that the Keybearers' duty is to the realm in a literal sense, not figuratively in title.

It was only after the Septon left did Varys come and inform him what the holy man said wasn't all which needed to be heard. The eunuch spymaster stated there were also members within the Sept who were more or less glad to see Roxas no longer around. Them having the belief Roxas was leading them astray from the Seven-who-are-One.

It wouldn't be the first time Ned heard this conflicting notion on the Andal teachings with past and present circumstances. And it would surely not be the last.

Makes him wonder if building the one sept within Winterfell was often worth it. Keeping his wife's approval or receiving constant feelings of disapproval by followers of the Old Gods; both alive and dead.

Honestly, Roxas has been safeguarding the capital for weeks now and the reaction of those who follow the Seven in their relief of him not being here will certainly garner no support from the common folk or even the Nobles.

Morale with many guardsmen and city protectors dropped considerably without Roxas' presence. Many doubts plagued their minds which they won't be able to be strong enough to fend off against the Heartless and Unversed plaguing the city and the miles outside it's walls.

Ned was fortunate he had capable men serving him who had much experience fighting the darkened monstrosities.

The men of the North were in charge of the city guard in all but name really. The tales of the North having fought against the Heartless earlier in the year had long since spread south so for once, his people weren't looked upon as the barbarians many had always assumed them to be.

The Hand was also glad to have the assistance of Lewyn Martell and Loras Tyrell along with their fighters serving their respective Houses. Both groups have been able to greatly assist the City Watch and Ned didn't know what he would do without them.

There was another group he was thankful for, yet couldn't openly acknowledge them: the Nobodies.

Before he left, Roxas introduced the lesser Nobodies who directly served under him and Lewyn when he was formerly a part of Organization XIII. This clearly startled the two older men and have been wary of them ever since Roxas lent a number of his Dusks and Samurai to them while he's away.

It was very reasonable, despite the Keybearer's reassurance. Yet Ned and Lewyn had to put their trust in Roxas on this unnerving element placed on their laps.

While not having them go out in broad daylight, the Hand ordered the lesser Nobodies to assist from the shadows. It was the only way their presence wouldn't greatly startle the general populace and believe them to be a part of the Heartless and Unversed threat.

It was sadly a gamble he had to take.

Even other questions had arisen. Why had they shown up now? Why hasn't Roxas spoken of this beforehand? What else wasn't he telling him?

This all gave him a migraine with how often he thought of such inquiries.

There had been a very awkward argument which occurred. He can still remember the details of it vividly.

The Lord of Winterfell sought to return his daughters home for their own protection. Not by the King's Road, but by sea. It was perhaps the quickest way back to the North, especially with the trouble of Vanitas focusing his attention in the Riverlands.

The reason why he came to this decision was after what occurred in the Throne Room days ago. An Unversed being brought into the Red Keep left many worried more would creep in sooner or later. And the Hand did not want his precious daughters brought to harm by these dark monstrosities.

Arya had complained about wanting to stay. Not just because of her dancing master, but because of what friends she made in the capital.

Ned already knew of Gendry, but he was clueless as to who else his youngest daughter had befriended. Cloud and Tyene come to mind, but there seems to be more than just them.

If the Braavosi was willing, Ned could hire Syrio into his service. Same offer could perhaps be given towards the smither's apprentice. Mikken, Winterfell's present blacksmith, was getting on in years and needed someone to assist him during a transitional period. Not to mention Gendry was good in his craft and the North could use a man like him; more so now than ever.

There was the added fact that he was his blood brother's son and there was a wave of nostalgia that came over Ned at the thought of Roxas befriending Gendry and the two riding alongside Robb off to battle and adventure.

A simpler time, even if it was a time of strife and conflict.

Sansa's argument was rather mixed.

Yes, his eldest daughter was like the younger one for she didn't want to part ways with what friends she made here.

Yet what came from her mouth by that point didn't satisfy the patriarch.

With him sending them back home, it would give him an opportunity of breaking the betrothal between Sansa and Joffrey. He can clearly see she doesn't want to marry the crown prince.

When Sansa gets older, he would properly make her a match worthy of her. Yet she didn't want to marry anyone else, for she confessed she wanted Roxas.

Yes, he already knew beforehand his daughter sought to be Roxas' wife. He himself had eventually planned on making it so if it weren't for Robert. Having it be a subtle courtship overtime to see if their relationship could honestly work before making an official announcement.

Unfortunately Robert stole the opportunity away by suddenly arranging for Roxas to marry Myrcella.

Now granted, the young blue eyed blond teen could easily announce that he wasn't going to go through with it but he knew the boy wouldn't do something like that so easily. It was not that he wanted power.

It's just that he didn't want to hurt or insult anyone in doing so.

A truly rare trait amongst many in this world. Oh if there were more people like him.

This all led up to something which greatly startled him when his daughters started making comparisons between the blonde Nobody and the crown prince.

Roxas was a caring and compassionate warrior. Joffrey was a liar and a cravenous coward. Roxas thought and fought for the people, Joffrey could care less for them.

Soon enough, they spoke of something else. And it was queer how innocent eyes could see things that grown men were blind to.

"The Lion's not Joffrey's sigil. He's a Stag like his father." Stated Arya.

"He is not. He's nothing like that old drunk old king." Sansa declared, angry and unknowing.

The simple truth of it had twisted inside Eddard, cold as death.

The gears started turning in his head as realization practically slapped him across the face several times. More so once he read through the genealogy book again.

The sisters inadvertently put together all the pieces of the one investigation inside their father's head.

"The Seed is Strong." Were Jon Arryn's dying words.

Ned had seen and gotten reports of many of Robert's bastards. All of them were black haired and blue-eyed while having some resemblance to their father due to dominant hereditary traits.

Joffrey doesn't look like the king at all. He wasn't a Baratheon at all, just… a Lannister product of incest… just like Myrcella and Tommen. And their father being none other than Jamie.

It was the reason why Jon Arryn was doing his investigation, getting physical proof of this betrayal.

It was a serious claim but it's the only logical explanation. They shared more than just a simple sibling bond due to being twins, for there had been a few subtle hints he noticed from their travels from Winterfell to the Capital and during the Hand's Tourney.

Time was perilously short. The king would return from his hunt any day now, and honor would require Ned to go to him with all he had learned. But at least his children would be safely on their way to Winterfell by then.

Last night, he had dreamt of Elia and her children lying dead in front of the Iron Throne. Their mangled bodies wrapped in Lannister cloaks so they won't horrify everyone of the sight. Even seeing Ventus state of absolute shocked disbelief and misery upon seeing their forms.

Ned could not let that happen again. The realm could not withstand a second Mad King, another dance of blood and vengeance. He must find some way to save the children.

Robert could be merciful. He would treat even his enemies with honor and respect as long as they were brave and honest. Ser Barristan was scarcely the only man he pardoned. Grand Maester Pycelle, Varys and even Lewyn Martell upon Ventus' request. Robert would fully allow them to retain honors and office for a pledge of fealty. So long as a man was brave and honest, the Baratheon would more or less treat them with the same courtesy.

But this was something else: a poison in the dark, a knife-thrust in the soul. This is something Robert could never forgive. At best, he'll disown them and have the Lannister's disgraced. At worst, he would kill them all, even the children. Especially the children.

Seven Hells, they may as well be "dragonspawn" in the eyes of the King with the means in which they were conceived.

While Joffrey was questionable in terms of mental stability, his siblings were truly innocent. Neither of them were power hungry like their elder brother.

Myrcella was kind and graceful, a friend to his daughter despite both girls wishing to gain the affection of Roxas.

And Tommen, he saw, hero worshipped Roxas and Cloud and in the time that he was at Winterfell became fast friends with Bran and Rickon.

Ned feared Robert would be blind to his wrath and ignore such things about his supposed children. And yet, he could not keep silent on this treachery.

"You asked to see me, Lord Stark."

Ned came out of his thoughts and gazed at the Queen. Her face was stern with a number of emotions bluntly seen in her green eyes.

Ned slowly nodded. "I have."

"Then you want to formally apologize." She said in expectation.

Confusion glossed over grey eyes. Their owner spoke in mere moments. "For your brothers?"

"No," she said. "Though that would've been nice to additionally hear."

"Then for what?"

"Sending Roxas away."

Ned gritted his teeth a little as he would hear yet another person voice this issue to him. If he were to earn a gold dragon for every time he heard that topic…

"I'm not apologizing for that action."

"I see…" Cersei said, voice low. "Then you must know what many believe, myself included. History repeating itself in a way. Ventus left and was never to be seen again. What's to say Roxas won't follow in his father's footsteps."

"It will not happen." Ned stated in a more terse manner. "Unless the unjust death of children are involved."

Cersei's green eyes bore into his grey ones.

"So you say." Green eyes momentarily gazed around the Godswoods with a quick inquiry leaving their owner's lips. "Why here?"

"So the gods can see." He began. "I know the truth Jon Arryn died for."

"Do you, Lord Stark?" She said with a raised brow, hiding the tenseness which shot up her spine. "Is that why you called me here, to pose me riddles instead of apologies?"

Ned gazed at Cersei's face and remembered the bruise which was once there days ago.

He figured she must've taken a Potion to take care of the wound when it became noticeable. Or if needed, had Roxas cast Cure to speed up the healing process before he left.

"Has Robert struck you before?" He asked, still eying the spot around Cersei's left eye.

"A few times. Never on the face before. Jaime would have killed him. My brother is worth a thousand of your friend."

"Your brother… or your lover?"

The smile on her face was all the answer he needed right away.

Not wanting to skirt away from the truth, the queen eventually spoke. "The Targaryens occasionally wed brothers and sisters for 300 years to keep their bloodlines pure, all for the sake of preserving their magic and dominion of dragons. And we all know where that led them."

Ned narrowed his grey eyes as she continued.

"Jaime and I are more than brother and sister." She confessed. "We shared a womb. We came into this world together. We belong together.

Ned was truly wondering if Cersei was delusional by this point. Yet a quelled rage slowly took over as he wanted the answer for his next question.

"My son, he saw you with him, didn't he?" Eddard's voice turned to ice.

To her credit, she didn't look away. "He did." Said the Lannister, for she did feel bad about what happened. Especially with what she said next. "My brother acted irrationally as well with what he did."

The Quiet Wolf swore if he were to see Jaime next, he would punch his eyes out and command him to strip his White cloak in order to take a Blackened one. Worse will skewer him with his ancestral sword Ice.

"Do you love your children?" She asked.

"With all my heart."

"No more than I love mine."

Ned asked himself, if it came to the life of some child he did not know against Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran, Rickon and Jon. What would he do in that scenario? Even more so, what would Catelyn do, if it were Jon's life against her own children?

He honestly didn't know. He prayed he never would.

"Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen. They are not Robert's. None of them are his children. Just yours… and Jamie's; all of them bastards."

Suddenly, Cersei's face turned dark with a glare that could probably terrify a dragon. She clenched her fists, perhaps hard enough for her nails to draw blood from her palms.

For the briefest of moments, Ned wondered if he mayhaps triggered the wrong thing to make Cersei angry. She may not consider them bastards, given how much she loved them, but to others they pretty much were.

After some moments to collect herself, Cersei gave a brief whisper. "If only you knew." She then focused back at the Stark. "This is quite the terrible accusation to make, Lord Stark. Especially without proof."

Cersei hoped she could bait him to reveal this supposed truth so she could have it destroyed. Unfortunately the Hand wasn't budging.

Seeing as she wasn't getting anywhere on that brief topic, she went back to another.

"In the rare event that Robert leaves his whores for long enough to stumble drunk into my bed, I finish him off in other ways. And in the morning, he doesn't remember a thing."

"You've always hated him."

"Not always. But for the longest time I have." She admitted. "Practically every girl in the Seven Kingdoms dreamed of him, but he was mine by oath so he may secure the Throne. Even giving me a son once, who died soon after from fever."

"What did he do to make you hate him so?" Ned couldn't help but ask.

"A few things. One of which was driving Ventus away." She snarled like the lioness of her family sigil as her eyes burned like wildfyre due to the light. "Tell me, did you know Jon Arryn made an arrangement with my father? He would have supported the crown with his gold once the Targaryens were overthrown. All at the cost of having Ventus and I formally betrothed once the war was over?"

This startled the Stark, not knowing if this was indeed true or false.

With Ned's silence, Cersei continued. "My father stayed out of the war, remaining neutral until the rebellion neared its end. Everything was kept at a stalemate, given Vanitas was attacking at all sides and played the Mad King for a bigger fool as a pawn in his twisted game. Throughout the war, I combed through the halls of Casterly Rock to hear any and all gossip and news of battles and skirmishes, praying to the gods Ventus would stay safe. One day I came into my father's office and sought him out; only to find a letter from Jon Arryn himself proposing the betrothal arrangement. Signature, seal, everything."

After this was spoken, a smile of longing graced the queen's face.

"I read it several times over, wanting to be sure they were all legitimate. I lost the amount of times I read it until my father surprised me. Seeing as I read such a note, he was the first to inform me that he will accept the arrangement. The one time I was overjoyed by his decisions which benefited our House." Cersei's expression and voice were practically dream-like by now, as if physically transporting herself to that time.

Her smile then flipped over to a frown.

"When news reached us of Ventus' abrupt departure, due to Robert's idiocracy, I wept in my bed for hours. Never seeing the man who actually cared and saw me for me ever again. And I was soon traded from a valiant, honest warrior to a drunkard once news of your sister's death reached my father's ears in order to secure our place with the Iron Throne."

Her face then turned sour.

"When it finally came to our wedding day in the Sept of Baelor, I saw Robert as lean and fierce and finely black bearded. While it should've been the happiest moment of my life, it was my bitterest. I wanted to wed Ventus and not the drunkard. But I had to do my duty, because my father commanded it. It was only at the bedding ceremony did Robert crawl on top of me, stinking of wine and did what little he could. And as he drunkenly cried out Lyanna as he finished inside me, I cried out for Ventus. I still do on occasions. Your sister was a bloodied corpse and I was a living girl, and he loved her no matter what. Though to be fair, I love Ventus far more and still do to this day."

Cersei was truly angry at this prospect since it had been a blow on her pride as not just a Lannister, but as a woman.

The she-wolf from the North had cast an everlasting shadow over their marriage and snuffed out whatever light that seemed to come out to make it better. Cersei had to compete with a woman who was dead. A woman who stole much of what was hers and it was truly unfair, no matter how hard she tried.

"You forget, Robert started his rebellion for my sister; which Ventus took up the cause for as well. Not just for her, but for the safety of Princess Elia and her children." Ned pointed out, remembering the smile Lyanna always had when Ven was around. "A rebellion where the prices for everyone paying for it were high and deals were made when the fires of war settled. You forget, you weren't the only one who suffered from the end of the war. I nearly lost my entire family and lost one of my closest friends, a brother in all but blood. And you think my sister didn't suffer during the duration of the war? She confessed her suffering as she lay dying when I found her. She suffered every day from the very day Rhaegar spirited her away to her last."

The Hand can still remember that very day clearly as parts of it still give him nightmares. Not just his fight against Ser Arthur Dayne, Ser Oswell Whent and the Kingsguard Commander Ser Gerold Hightower; but for seeing Lyanna dying form and her haunting words forever etched into his mind.

His sister confessed her feelings of returning home. She confessed her feelings of when Rhaegar took her, in more ways than one. And she confessed her feelings for the man who she loved ever since meeting him at Harrenhal and wanting to see him one last time. These confessions were all she said before she gave her brother her final request, which he honored.

"I'm sure she did. But it doesn't change the fact Robert still loves her over me. The very woman who could love him back and give him children." Countered Cersei.

Ned exhaled a sigh. "I don't know which of you I pity most."

The queen seemed amused by that. "Save your pity for yourself, Lord Stark. I want none of it."

"Then you know what I must do."

"What you must do?" She questioned softly. "A true man does what he will, not what he must. The realm needs a strong Hand. No one wants war again, especially now." She reached out and brushed her hand against his arm. "If friends can turn into enemies, enemies can become friends. Be kind to me, Ned. I swear to you shall never regret it. Surely Roxas would agree."

"Did you make the same offer to Jon Arryn?" Ned asked, though he didn't expect an answer.

In an instant, Cersei pried her arm away from his arm and harshly slapped him across the face.

Ned hardly flinched from the sting, only responding with a dry remark. "I shall wear that as a badge of honor."

"Honor," she spat. "How dare you play the noble lord with me! What do you take me for? You've got a bastard of your own, I've seen him. Who was the mother, I wonder? Lady Ashara Dayne? I still remember seeing how you two interacted back at Harrenhal. Did you take the babe with you after she threw herself into the sea, once hearing how you killed her brother? If not her, was it some Riverland whore? Tell me, my honorable Lord Eddard, how are you any different from Robert, or me, or Jaime?"

The Quiet Wolf started to growl at these jabs. "You would do well to listen, my lady. I shall say this only once. When the king returns from his hunt, I'll tell him the truth. You must be gone from King's Landing by then. You and your children. Even arrange to acquire Tommen from your father at Casterly Rock. I will not have their blood on my hands. Go as far away as you can, with as many men as you can bring. Go to the Free Cities of Essos or further than them. Somewhere which Robert's wrath cannot reach you. Because we both know what will happen when he's told."

Even if Joffrey is… spoiled, Myrcella and Tommen are still innocent and Ned would hate to see them hurt. And he can imagine both Ventus and Roxas sharing the same thoughts.

"And what of my wrath, Lord Stark? Did you ever consider it? I may be a woman, but I'm the daughter of Tywin Lannister. And I have inherited his wrath like any child from their parents."

The queen stood. Her green eyes searched his face as she spoke softly. "I have grown quite disappointed in you, Lord Stark. Especially on the day when King's Landing fell. Jamie told me how he was sitting on the Iron Throne and you made him give it up. All you could've done after was climb the steps and take the Throne as it was up for the taking. It was your moment. Yet you wasted the opportunity. Seven Hells, Ventus could've done it instead, yet I can imagine you held him back. All of Westeros would've been far better with either of you instead of Robert. Such a sad mistake."

"I've made many mistakes in my life. But that wasn't one of them."

"Oh, but it was." Cersei insisted. "When you play the Game of Thrones, you win or you die. There is no middle ground."

It wasn't just the Lannister wrath she inherited, but she learned many things from her father during his time as Hand of the King and Warden of the West.

One of which was that in King's Landing, there are two sorts of people. The Players and the Pieces. Every man's a piece to start with and every maid as well. Even some who think they are players.

It takes skill, wit and cunning to know how to outmaneuver one's enemies and as of now, Ned Stark was an enemy.

Players and Pieces… Kings and Pawns… Rulers and Fools…

"I believe the South no longer suits you. Return to your home before you regret it." She warned him as she departed from the godswoods.

She will never allow Robert to take or kill what is hers. She grew life in her womb and carried each of them on separate occasions. They were her treasures and she won't let any harm be brought upon them. Not even Robert, simply because he sits on the Iron Throne.

Especially her precious daughter. If only Eddard Stark knew.

As he was left alone in the godswoods, the Hand had a small feeling the queen would be enacting some plans now. In order to thwart them, Ned needed to enact a few of his own.

To begin with, Ned still thought Robert going on his hunt was outright idiotic. The king shouldn't go out on his prefered activity with Vanitas' forces out and about. Yet the obese Baratheon was stubborn in not having to do what he enjoyed.

Regardless, the Stark needed to prepare for his eventual return, before Robert met some kind of untimely end.

Making his way to the Tower of the Hand, Ned needed to quickly write Stannis a message before the spies of his enemies in the Red Keep caught wind of it.

And as he left, another was taking place.

-Baelish's Brothel-

Standing in one of the spare rooms of his establishment, Petyr momentarily looked outside of the window to where many of his whores were washing both the sheets, themselves and their children.

To Littlefinger, the children shouldn't be living here. To him, they should just be either living on the streets or at the varying orphanages throughout the capital.

The only reason why they were here was due to their mothers. All of them were bastards whose mothers didn't have the heart to part ways with them.

The whores work harder to please the customers each day and fork over a percentage of their earnings. It's so Petyr will allow them food in their children's bellies on top of having a roof over their head. It kept them motivated and focused, which was all Baelish desired.

Of course the children don't like to see their women working so hard every day. So Petyr takes them into his employ as well as his eyes and ears within the capital. Not many would suspect a littany of orphans running about and being outright dumb. The children help give him what information he needs and he helps lift what their mothers owe him on a weekly and monthly basis.

Closing the window, Littlefinger drowned out the sounds from outside so he may focus on the ones in the room he was in. Looking over, he saw two naked women on the far off couch.

Armeca had dark hair and dark olive skinned beauty who worked for Petyr for several years now. She was exotic in a sense and even spoke other languages from across the Narrow Sea. It made her more desirable from other patrons as she would scream out in such foreign tongues to make the men she's servicing excited even more as she can't speak the common tongue.

What they don't know is that this was all a ploy, a farce. Armeca didn't come from across the Narrow Sea, she in fact came from Flea Bottom. It was just a face she used so she may be seen as a "dumb-slut" which many men often goes towards.

Presently, she was kneeling on the stone floor and was eating out a red haired, fair skinned woman. Armeca worked on her, around her even by not just eating out her lower lips, but her puckered arsehole. All the while, this woman was moaning loudly and screaming against the dark haired woman's oral skills.

While generally this would be a very arousing sight to behold to any onlooker, Petyr had a different response.

"No, no, no, NO!" Petyr yelled out, interrupting the foreplay.

Armeca separated from the redhead as both of them focused their attention on Littlefinger.

"Is that what they teach you up in the North? Do you have any idea how ridiculous you sound, Ros?" Petyr stressed out. "Do you even know what I'm saying?"

"Yes, my lord." Said Ros.

The redhead beauty came here from the North not long ago. He was curious about the reason, given the latest developments with the kingdoms. The North was arguably one of the safest territories out there.

In Ros' argument, she merely grew tired of the same customers she'd been servicing for years now and wanted to move her profession elsewhere.

Littlefinger didn't exactly care about the excuse. Just so long as his newest recruit can properly work for him, then he'll be fine with whatever story they come up with.

Before he could get them to start working, he had to put each new recruit through an interview process.

One may think it would be himself tasting the women as he plows into them and empties his seed inside or on their flesh. In fact that wasn't the case as he just observes and notes their flaws and corrects them to be proper employees.

Releasing a frustrated sigh, Petyr focused back at the recruit. "Let's start over, shall we?" He said, pointing to her. "You be the man. Armeca, you be the woman."

His employee nodded as she leaned towards Ros' neck and began kissing and suckling it's flesh. While the redhead moaned a little, she hardly did anything in response.

"You're not following them. They just paid you. They know what you are. They know it's all just an act." Petyr lectured. "Your job is to make them forget what they know. Which takes time, which I don't like wasted when paid accordingly."

Taking that as a challenge, Ros pushed Armeca off her and pinned her onto the couch and started to fill her up. Caressing her dark skin and kissing her thin, plump lips. Before long, the redhead eased away from the lips and started nibbling and sucking against the dark olive breasts. It wouldn't be long before Ros inserted her slender fingers inside of her and slowly pumped in and out.

As this went on, Petyr continued his lecture in hopes of properly drilling this knowledge into his recruit's head. For Armeca is properly showing Ros how it was all done.

"He's winning you over in spite of yourself. You're starting to like this. He's enjoyed his cock since he was old enough to play with it. Why shouldn't you? He knows he's better than other men. He's always known it deep down inside. Now he has proof. So stroke that ego of his. Make him reach deep inside of you that no one one even knew was there, overcoming your very nature. Make it feel like their cock was the best one you've ever received."

There were moments when Petyr wished he had Madam M's employees. Each of them were disciplined and trained accordingly. They truly knew what needed to be done to greatly attract more and more customers and toss their earnings their way. All so then experience more pleasure than just getting their cocks pleasured through a woman's mouth, pussy and arsehole.

This made Littlefinger rather competitive against her as his unannounced rival in this field of business.

As this lecture went on, Armeca was moaning in such ways which made Ros feel more turned on than from being eaten out earlier.

After all these years of being as a whore back in Wintertown, Ros mayhaps didn't know everything in the business.

Pulling away from Petyr's employee, Ros spoke to her future employer. "Why don't you join us, my lord?"

"I'm saving myself for another." He said, walking back to his desk and resumed working through a few documents.

"What she doesn't know won't hurt her."

"A stupid saying." He said back. "What we don't know is usually what gets us killed."

"She must be very beautiful."

"In a way, she was. Yet I'm more attracted to the impeccable bloodlines."

Ros giggled as she maneuvered Armeca's legs around so she may place herself between them properly. "I do believe my lord's in love."

"For many years. Most of my life really. And she loved me too. For I was her plaything. Both she and her sister could tell me anything, anything at all. From the horses she enjoyed riding to the man she wanted to marry. A Northerner of all people, to my surprise."

Ever since his Braavosi ancestor settled in the Vale, his family owned a dreary and desolate plot of land over at the Fingers. Luckily for him, Petyr hardly spent much time there in his youth.

During the War of the Ninepenny Kings, a cheap name for a cheap cause, where other men fought for the king, his father fought for other lords. More specifically earning the friendship of Lord Holster Tully, Lord Paramount of the Riverlands and head of one of the oldest and greatest Houses Westeros has ever had.

Thanks to his father's heroic efforts, Petyr was fostered at Riverrun and grew up with Holster's very own children.

As the years went on by, Petyr was belittled by the Tully heir, Edmure, at every chance. Littlefinger confined himself with the sisters, Catelyn and Lysa, and played their little kissing games as practice for when they got husbands of their own. Over time, he greatly enjoyed being with them over Edmure any day.

When they grew older, the games shifted and changed like everyone. And he went from a meal little boy to a more bolder one.

When Lord Tully announced Catelyn's betrothal to the heir of Winterfell, Petyr knew Catelyn would put her duty over whatever love she bore towards him.

Fool that he was, Petyr challenged Brandon Stark for her hand in marriage, believing he was the little hero who could beat the big villain like many stories told in the past. Yet was greatly beaten due to him being scrawny when compared to a grizzly warrior. If Catelyn didn't intervene, he surely would've died from the wound he still has to this day.

"And are they still together?" Asked the Northerner whore as she moaned, rubbing and smashing into Armeca.

"Oh no. He got himself killed before their wedding day," said Petyr. "And she ended up with his brother, who was a far more impressive specimen. She still loves him, I'm afraid. And why wouldn't she? I mean, who could compare to him?"

This was the general idea as to what Petyr thought of during his last two weeks at Riverrun. Him confined in his quarters before being deported back to the Fingers did he come to a realization.

He can never win at "their" game in the traditional sense of being a part of these great Houses vying for control. He had to go through a different approach.

Not from swords, but from wits. He wanted to raise House Baelish to a proper standing as a means of bettering himself.

Something like what Lann the Clever did.

There were a few ideas with how Lann the Clever started his House. He swindled the owners of Casterly Rock by stumbling upon a hidden passage in the cliffs out of curiosity and found his way into the mountain keep. He then concocted an idea of driving the family out by whispering into the family's ears as they slept, moved around certain prized possessions from one room into the next to arise arguments and was screaming into the darkened corridors to make it seem haunted by demons.

The other theory was sneaking into the Rock and bedding and impregnating all of the women while snuffing out the existing Casterly Men one way or another.

Either way, House Casterly was replaced with House Lannister by having them fucked out of existence.

In a sense, he took the route Lann the Clever journeyed through. And it all began as he recovered from his botched duel against Brandon Stark.

At first he thought it was Catelyn when she came to him in the middle of the first night. He was delirious in thinking it so that he soon bedded her with every amount of energy he had at the time. It was only the second and third visits did Petyr realize it was Lysa instead of Catelyn.

By that point, Littlefinger soon took a page out of Lann the Clever's book and did the same in a sense. But he had to play the long game and adjust accordingly.

Opportunity eventually arose when the Mad King executed Brandon Stark and his father, which fully ignited Robert's Rebellion. When Lysa Tully married Jon Arryn to help cement the mighty alliance against the Mad King, Petyr came into contact with her again and quickly reignited their relationship by capitalizing Lysa's feelings towards him.

Through her, Petyr was appointed controller of customs at Gulltown and soon impressed Jon Arryn for his skills and putting great amounts of gold into the Vale's coffers. Sometime after the Rebellion was over, Petyr was able to use Lysa to get him appointed as Master of Coin, furthering his status.

It was after moving to the capital did Baelish conduct the next phase of his plans.

He had basically stolen the seat of House Arryn by impregnating Lysa Arryn and having their son be labeled as an Arryn. She was truly obsessed with him and would do anything for his affections, something which he took full advantage of. For he no longer cared for the Tully sisters, only using them to his own ends.

Just like the Lannisters and the Starks as he has them sick against each other. In the end, he believed House Baelish would become the victor if he kept playing his pieces right. For he practically desired everything by this point.

He heard the phrase once in passing and he thought it was appropriate: "Don't hate the player, hate the game."

Petyr soon heard the two whores climaxing on the couch as he was lost in thought in his thoughts and his observations of his interview process.

"Good. Very good." He commented. "You're starting to get the hang of it, Ros."

The redhead Northerner nodded as she stood up alongside Armeca.

"Now wash yourselves. Both of you are working tonight."

Just when the whores were leaving, a number of Gold Cloaks came walking into the establishment.

Momentarily curious of the sight, he soon brushed it off as he believed them to be here to partake of some of his whores.

That wasn't the case this time around.

"Petyr Baelish."

The Master of Coin turned away from his work as he focused on one of the men of the City Watch.

"Yes? May I help you?"

"You need to come with us."

"What for? Another Small Council meeting?" Baelish drawled out.

It wouldn't be much of a surprise if it was, given the present issues at hand with Vanitas plaguing the kingdoms. This soon caused more frequent meetings and may happen at a moment's notice.

Not waiting for a response, he rose from his seat and left his establishment.

The moment he walked out of the doorway, he saw a iron prisoner cart with the door swung open with a few Stark men standing there.

Confusion soon took root as he swirled around asking aloud.

"What is this about?" Baelish asked, now feeling a bit boxed in.

A tall Northern guard stepped forward and towered over Littlefinger. "You are hereby charged for the crimes of murder and conspiracy on the late Lord Jon Arryn."

Before Petyr could get the chance to respond, a gauntlet covered fist harshly punched him in the stomach. He hunched over in pain before another fist clocked him across the face.

The Master of Coin fell down to the dirt as members of the City Watch and Stark guards hauled him into the prisoner cart to be escorted to the Black Cells of the Red Keep.

-The Wall-

Standing at the top of the icy, man-made structure, Jon was overlooking the land Beyond the Wall alongside his friend, Sam. The icy wind blowing into their faces as they were performing their duties for the watch.

There were times where they quickly became bored and would want to talk about just anything at all.

"I miss girls." Began Sam. "Not even talking to them. I never talked to them. I mean just looking at them, hearing them giggle." The plump Tarly looked at the Stark bastard with an inquiry. "Do you miss girls?"

Jon didn't respond right away as he bore a thousand yard stare. He wasn't bothering to look at the Haunted Forest directly in front of their view.

Sam's question did reverberate in his mind and made him question it.

"That depends. Do you miss your mother and sister, much less your brother?" Jon asked back.

The bastard of Winterfell remembered his friend talking about his family in the past. While Jon hated Sam's father, due to him sending his eldest son to the Wall, he was more or less indifferent for the rest of the Tarly Household.

"Of course I do." Sam said sadly. "I wonder how they are doing just about every day. How Dickon is handling his training to be the new heir of our House. How my mother is handling things now I'm gone. Seven Hells, I'm even worried for Talla if my father will arrange a popper match for her or not."

Jon nodded and responded in kind. "For me, I'm like you in a way. I miss my family a lot. More so now after what Roxas basically told us."

While thankful for being caught up with the news down South of the Wall, Jon was rather anxious from what trouble is presently brewing.

With this in mind, he constantly wonders how the others are right now.

"I just wonder how Robb and our father are running things at Winterfell and King's Landing respectively with the issues at hand? Are the rest of my siblings staying safe? And is my Uncle Benjen doing well Beyond the Wall?"

Jon, however, was conflicted with Lady Stark. He was never close to her, no matter how much he tried to show he meant no harm to her children. Because of this, she basically burned any bridges he tried to make in building a decent relationship with her.

But he had to at least give her some form of sympathy and wish her luck on the present issues at hand on her journey home.

"And what of girls?"

"In case you forgot, I wasn't very close to them… outside of family."

This was more or less true. It would've been a full out truthful statement if it weren't for the dreams he's been experiencing.

Jon didn't know if they would exactly count. They were dreams after all, they weren't real.

Yet after Roxas came into his life, it made him question a whole lot of them.

If the Keybearer didn't confirm with him on these Deep Dives, he would've chalked them up as pure fanatical dreams.

He fights Heartless galore while talking and venting his thoughts to people he more or less conjured up. All of whom hardly interacted with him at all in terms of responses.

Namine, however, was different.

Yes it's reasonably weird as she's not in the physical world, but at least he can truly interact with her alongside Bran once that pesky three-eyed bird was out of their hair each night. It was hard to get his mind wrapped around the concept, but at least it didn't make him totally insane.

Still, it put him at a sense of ease as he slept as he more or less got to know the pretty blonde woman. How her hair seemed to shine through the dark with her warm blue eyes which matched her smile.

Speaking of, it was rather peculiar to learn more of her relationship with Roxas. With how the two talked about it, it was as if the two blondes bore an estranged relationship; either as friends or siblings at best. Neither really did want to talk more about it, which he respected and pried no further.

And there was still that spectre of a woman who always appeared towards the end of his slumber. Always at a distance, yet visible. Always trying to reach out and talk to him, yet couldn't.

At least that one he may rationalize as a figment of his imaginative dream. That woman had to be, right?

She might have been like another he dreamt. It wasn't of a person, but an event.

He recalled a dream where Jon was in a frozen wasteland. He was with others, yet he couldn't make out all of their features. Jon -however- was able to see Roxas and Ghost beside him, yet the white furred direwolf was as big as him.

But every one of them were facing off against enemies surrounding them all; both Heartless… and something else.

They were all boney, both figuratively and literally. Either snow white or rotten grey skinned with bones being seen through varying gaps. And each and every one bore these unsettling piercing blue eyes with screeches piercing the air and laughs sounding like cracking ice.

By how terrifying they were, Jon wondered if they were the Others he had grown up listening to. The White Walkers and their undead minions from the First Long Night.

They all hacked, stabbed and slashed through each and every one of them. Explosions of magic went all over the battlefield. Oddly enough, Jon bore a weapon which was heavily coated in red and blue flames.

No matter how hard they tried, they were getting overwhelmed. The swarming darkness kept growing and growing as nearly every person he fought alongside with were taken out one by one until only very few were left standing.

It was at its blurry climax did Jon have the utter pleasure of waking up from the horrific experience.

That particular dream only occurred once, yet he feared if it may ever pop up again or ever occur in real life.

Coming out of his thoughts, Jon spots something coming out of the Haunted Forest down below. By the look of it with how fast it's going, it was a horse.

Sam saw this as well and quickly pulled out a horn. "We need to call the others. The riders have returned.

"But why is he alone?" Jon asked, seeing only one horse. As Sam blew the horn, Jon's eyes sharpened as he saw something unusual about the horse in question. "There's no rider."

Taking off, both Jon and Sam traveled down the elevated lift as the horse rode through the tunnels below and into Castle Black.

Both recruits knew that abandoning their post before the shift change would get them punished. Yet Jon didn't really care at this time. And Sam merely tagged along for the ride.

Waking out of the lift, Jon saw one of the stable boys trying to calm the horse down.

"That's my uncle Benjen's horse." Said Jon as he recognized it rather well. "Where's my uncle?" He asked aloud in distress.

Commander Jeor Mormont, who had seen this, remained silent as he didn't seem to have an answer.

-The Red Keep-

"Ned!" A hoarse yell came from down the hall. "Ned!"

The Hand swirled around to see Renly drenched in blood. The Baratheon moved with fear in his steps, barely able to get to the Stark without almost breaking down. The Northerner quickly approached him and held him steady.

"Renly? What happened?" Ned said, trying to calm the Stormlander down.

Yet the attempt failed as his grey eyes saw how bloodshot Renly's blue were.

"It's Robert… we were hunting… there were so many…"

Ned became worried now, quickly guessing what may have happened when they were away.

The Northerner and other Baratheon guards helped Renly as they made their way to the royal bedchamber to find practically everyone present.

Standing by the doorway was Ser Barristan, who had blood staining his Kingsguard armor and cloak. Varys stood not far away with a troubled expression as he nervously fiddled with his hands in a means of calming himself.

Lying on the bed on the far side of the room was Robert, who was breathing slowly as he was soon administered several Potions by Pycelle. The faint green glow enveloped the king's form, but it didn't appear Robert was getting any better anytime soon.

On one side of the bed, Myrcella was holding her father's hand with shimmering tears streaming down her blue-green eyes. Cersei had a hand on her daughter's shoulder with a worried expression on her face. And beside her was Joffrey who was similar to his mother and sister with blood somewhat seen on his crimson leather attire.

Ned was silent as he listened to Robert whispering to his present family members. With how quiet the room was, it was practically heard quite well.

"I'm sorry," said Robert to his children. "I should've been a better father to you two and Tommen. I… never was… meant to be one."

"Don't say that, father." Said the princess. "You were fine, despite your faults."

This got Robert to laugh a little before coughing in pain.

"It's good to hear that from you." The king said with love in his blue eyes. "I hope I can recover… properly… so I may walk you down the aisle on your special day."

"You will." She choked out. "You promised me last time. You said you would."

The Baratheon King let out a pained chuckle. "Well then I best start recovering properly now."

Robert then shifted his gaze to Joffrey. His eyes were half-lidded so it was hard for the crown prince to see what emotion his father was delivering to him at first.

"I… should've taught you more… on how to be a better man." Regret being heard in Robert's voice. "Same with Tommen. But it's up to your grandfather to pick up where I left off."

Cersei was silent through this whole process. Her green eyes finally took notice of Ned when she saw Robert moving his head. As much as the queen wanted to sneer or yell at the Stark, especially with what happened earlier at the godswoods, she withheld the action due to her children present at this troubled moment.

"Go on you two." Said Robert, addressing the blond teens in the room. "We can… talk more… later…"

Myrcella wanted to stay by her father's side, but was reluctant to leave. Joffrey however moved out of the room rather quickly in front of his sister, who was slow in her step.

With the children out of his solar, Robert finally addressed his Hand.

"It was my fault." Robert struggled out. "Should've been more attentive. Drank a bit too much wine, I suppose."

Ned walked over and moved the bed covers to see the bleeding wound on his side. The bandages were heavily soaked and would perhaps be needing to be replaced very soon. It's a miracle the king didn't die of blood loss already.

"You should've seen me, Ned." Robert said weakly. "I was battling Heartless and Unversed like back in the Rebellion. I killed a good number of them before one of those bastards cut me up good. Thank the Gods for Cloud kicking my ass back into shape. *Chuckle* Or, as best as he was able to with my fat ass. Shame I didn't keep the boar I killed beforehand. Even saw Renly kill a few. Proud of him for that." The king then addressed the others in the room. "Leave us, all of you. I need to talk to Ned..."

The Queen moved to object. "Robert-"

"And you…" he said a moment later, halting her in her tracks.

Cersei blinked in surprise that her husband would want her present in the room alongside the Hand and him alone. Ned was in a similar fashion.

This now put the two in a peculiar spot of what may be said, given their previous conversation.

With reluctance with the others, they all left, leaving the Queen and the Hand in the bedchamber.

When the last of them left, Ned exhaled a sigh and spoke to his old, estranged friend.

"You're a damned fool." Ned said slowly, not caring for the Queen's presence. "You shouldn't have gone. You know you're not what you once were."

"I know… just… didn't realize it until then." Robert then eyed a few objects over by the nearby table. "Paper and ink on the table. Write down what I say."

Ned balked at what he just requested. "But surely you-"

"Might recover?" Robert interrupted him. "I know… given how many Potions I drank. It'll be a while before I'm back on my feet. But I don't want to regret not having said anything."

Ned nodded and fetched the desired items.

"Why did you request for me to stay?" Asked Cersei, still unsure as to what she was doing here.

"To be a witness for what I wish to say." Said her husband. "And I have some other things to say to you once I'm done with Ned."

The Lannister nodded as Ned returned with paper and ink as he soon dipped the quill into the inkwell on a small table tray.

"In the name of Robert of House Baratheon, first of- you know how it goes. Fill in the damn titles." Began the king, who soon heard Ned scratching it all down on the parchment. Once things soon ceased, the bleeding man continued. "I hereby command Eddard of House Stark, titles, titles, titles to serve as Lord Regent and protector of the realm during my recovery and, should it happen, upon my eventual death." Robert waited some more for his old friend to finish writing before resuming. "To rule in my stead… until… until Myrcella comes of age."

Ned swiftly halted his writing and looked at Robert with a shocked expression. And he wasn't the only one for Cersei was in a similar fashion.

"Excuse me?" Ned choked out.

"You heard what I said." Robert grumbled out.

Cersei barely managed to stammer out her shock. "I agree with Stark, Robert, but-"

"I wish for Roxas to support Myrcella when she takes the throne as her husband and king consort." Robert breathed out. "I've been thinking of this and others as I rode the damn cart back here from the Kingswood. I honestly can't see Joffrey being a good king when I pass on. He just doesn't… fit the role of a good one. Myrcella, however, I see so much potential in her through her eyes." He wheezed out. "Her beautiful eyes."

Cersei was rather shaken when she heard this coming from her husband. And she honestly didn't know what to say.

After some moments of composing himself, Ned spoke. "Robert, you know Roxas-"

"I know he doesn't want the throne, he might as well support the one sitting in the damned thing. I just… want him to give her a better chance than what I've witnessed. And I know he'll hate my decision more, but he'll do what's right."

"Robert… you do realize that Roxas may never accept this." Ned argued again. "He is much like his father. His responsibility is to all. He can outright reject this kingship should he choose."

"Then being King of Westeros will allow him to do so." His best friend fired back. "Protector of the Realm, remember? That is one of the titles held by the King and now the future Queen. Dammit Ned, please. Just… just trust me on this one thing."

Ned hesitantly nodded as he wrote down the last of Robert's requests before putting down his signature. Once done, he handed the small tray over to Robert to have him sign the parchment before Cersei.

The queen eyed the document as her mind was still reeling from her husband's request of changing the order of succession. She just never knew he would skip over Joffrey.

Her green eyes scanned through the document to see any margin of error if the Hand were to perhaps change Robert's small and quickly made Will for his own personal gain, only to find none at all.

'Myrcella, my sweet Myrcella… Queen?' The sound of such a thing was still making her mind reel.

To think it was her drunken oaf King of a husband who declared for such a radical shift in the one next in line for the Throne.

Satisfied, she signed her signature alongside the ones of the King and the Hand.

"I want you to hold onto that and present it to the Council should I die." Said the bleeding king towards the Stark. "At least they'll say I did this right… this one thing. You'll rule now, Ned. You'll hate it more than I have, but you'll do it well… before Myrcella and Roxas does."

Ned nodded as he rose from his place at Robert's side and went to put the official seal on the parchment to finish things off.

"The girl… Daenerys. You were right." The Storm King's voice was laced with remorse. "I was just too stubborn to accept the facts. I was just so… angry at her family… with how they ruined mine… and yours." Robert breathed out. "Let her live, Ned. Stop it… if it's not too late."

"I will." Ned promised.

"I've been a big fool, despite what others have thought."

Ned chuckled a little as he got a wax stick from the table and started to burn the end.

"I never thought you were one… all the time." The Wolf Lord idly said.

Robert chuckled, earning some groaning in response.

"Gods… I can see it."

"Hmmm?"

"You and Elbert and Jon… I can see you all as we were in our youth." Robert choked out, visible tears in his eyes.

Robert held out his hand for Ned to take which he did and held it firmly.

"War is coming… I can feel it." He said to both Ned and Cersei, who was still quiet during this time. "Keep Roxas close. Any side he's on, will win for sure."

Ned nodded, letting go of his friend's hand to apply the fresh wax onto the rolled up parchment and brought it over to Robert. The king slowly reached over and pressed his ring onto the substance to leave it's mark there. Once done, the Hand left the king and queen alone.

It was at that moment did events of today leading up to this moment finally caught up to him. He threatened the Queen, a Lannister at that, and didn't -couldn't- go through with his warning and intended action.

Ned wanted to tell Robert what he knows of the truth of his "children". Of how they weren't his. But seeing Robert near Death's door, albeit recovering, and hearing his potential final command made things rather difficult.

He already sent Jory beforehand with a letter to personally deliver to Stannis on Dragonstone of this revelation if he wanted to get a legitimate confirmation. Once he was done with his task, he needed to immediately return to Winterfell for further instructions.

But now things are going to be difficult with what may come after.

With the revelation of the royal children not having Baratheon blood in their veins, Stannis is next in line of succession. He'll no doubt fight for the throne, not because it was his right, but as his duty. But that'll cause issues with Robert's recent command.

If a conflict were to ensue, Stannis would face off against Roxas.

Vanitas or his allies with Organization XIII would surely take advantage of this; one way or another.

If only Cersei wasn't in the bedchambers as witness then things could've gone smoother.

Ned quickly assumed Robert would typically still have Joffrey as king, almost making Ned replace the request with "his heir"; thus naming Stannis as king. The deceit would've made him feel soiled. Yet the change Robert made Ned not know what to do. Cersei would surely take advantage of this as a means of revenge.

Upon exiting the royal bedchambers, he came to see the sight of Ser Barristan with a few of the Kingsguard and the rest of the Small Council.

Ned took a deep breath and nodded his head at the grand maester.

"He'll need milk of the poppy. Some Potions as well, I believe." Stark quickly said.

Hopefully there will be enough of the concoctions to help keep Robert alive and recover posthaste. Ned may be able to salvage this present situation if he had some more time.

Pycelle nodded, shuffling his feet along the stone floors to retrieve the desired items to help heal the king. Renly slowly moved after him, still reeling from the shock of it all. Ned figured the Master of Laws was ready to collapse almost any minute now, using what strength he had left to reach his chambers and submit to slumber.

When the two left, Ned addressed the Kingsguard Commander. "What exactly happened out there?"

"We had finally tracked something for Robert to kill." Barristan said shakily. "He was reeling from the wine when he made the successful kill on the boar. But when we were making our way to camp, the Heartless and Unversed, they ambushed us all. It was a slaughter. I failed to protect him."

Ned exhaled a sigh and looked at the shaken Kingsguard commander. "It's not your fault. You did what you could. Robert blamed the wine."

The Kingsguard member nodded as he ran through his grey hair. "He often tries not to drink too much when hunting, yet he developed more of a thirst than usual."

At this point, Varys finally spoke. "I wonder, Ser Barristan, who gave the king his wine?"

Barristan gazed upon the eunuch quizzically. "His squire, from the king's own skin."

"His squire?" Ned repeated. "Lancel Lannister?"

Barristan nodded. "And the prince."

"The prince? Why?"

"When Lancel had to… relieve himself, Joffrey had to take his stead before his return each time."

Ned hummed as the Spider resumed speaking.

"Such dutiful boys to make sure His Grace did not lack refreshment. I do hope the poor lads don't blame themselves." Varys said whimsically.

The group was silent for a number of moments before Ned focused his attention on Varys.

"You mentioned children." Said the Hand. "Robert had a change of heart concerning Daenerys Targaryen. Whatever arrangements you have made, unmake them at once."

Varys made a face, as if he was hit in a particular area of the body and reeling from the pain. "I'm afraid those birds have flown. The girl and her baby are likely dead already. I am truly sorry."

Ned grimaced, but composed himself. "All the same, Varys. Get word to your birds and those they were in contact with for this task. Tell them to stop any attempt in motion and to cease any future ones towards their lives."

"I shall do what I can, Lord Hand."

"And I want the Red Keep on high alert." Ned added on. "Barristan, rearrange the Castle guards to have constant patrols and shifts, no one is to travel alone. If the Heartless and Unversed are as daring as to attack the King in front of his Kingsguard then who is to say that others would suffer the same fate."

Selmy simply nodded in complete agreement.

As this conversation went on, Robert was speaking to his wife.

"I honestly should've treated you better. And you were right. Lyanna was dead, but I was too stubborn to move on. Would've made our marriage work." The King said through labored breaths.

Cersei was silent, but regarded the words.

He cleared his throat rather awkwardly as he gazed upon her left cheek. "I… Is the bruise-"

"Gone by this point." Cersei said. "It went away rather quickly. You must be losing your touch."

Her husband guffawed, clenching his side, fighting through the pain.

"But these Potions and Ethers do wonders." The Queen went on, giving him a genuinely amused smirk.

Once he finished laughing, Robert moved slightly and retrieved something tucked under the sheets. Withdrawing it into the open, he handed his wife the remains of his Wayfinder.

"If I don't recover soon, I want Myrcella to have this." He said to her. "One last gift, I suppose."

Her eyes took in the details of the object now in her grasp. One of the last items left behind by Ventus himself. Cersei had wished to procure such a thing years ago. Not this item in particular, for Robert had soiled it with his actions, but one of her own.

Swallowing some bit of distaste of the memory, Cersei gave a small smile. "I'll be sure to do so."

"Perhaps this Wayfinder will imbue in our darling girl the strength needed to lead these fucked up kingdoms." Robert murmured.

"She is stronger than you know." Cersei found herself saying, seeing her husband nod in agreement.

"Of that, I have no doubt." Robert stated. "That looks, that intensity in her eyes. Same as my father and mother. Same as yours. She shall be a great queen. The first and greatest to have ever lived."

"Better than Rhaenyra Targaryen?"

"Better than King Maegor… with tits."

The Queen groaned aloud at that, eliciting a laugh from Robert.

"Yes, yes, shouldn't really use that sort of language in describing our daughter." Robert shrugged, wincing in pain. "But you know how stupid I am by this point."

Cersei was still trying to process the fact that Robert jumped over Joffrey and placed the future of Westeros into their daughter's hands.

"Did you know Myrcella already came up with names for our grandchildren?" Robert breathed out, causing Cersei to once again stare at her husband in surprise. "Shocking, I know. Already jumping the ballista and thought of them far before her wedding day."

"And what may they be?"

"Steffon after my father. And for a girl… after your mother."

Cersei's breath hitched when this graced her ears.

"She… She didn't tell me…"

"Myrcella wanted it as a surprise to you. She greatly knew how much you cherished the name." Robert said quietly. "She… Myrcella said something that reminded me of them, you know."

Cersei's expression conveyed confusion so he clarified.

"My parents." Robert revealed. "My mother and father… they always spoke of my House words with respect and reservation. Always about how fury without purpose destroys you. Our sweet girl promised me to focus the fury within for a better tomorrow."

The King let out a strained, coughing laugh. "Can you believe that, Cersei? Myrcella's already sounding like a better Queen than I ever was as a King. Seven Hells, I shudder to think how Joffrey is my son… but I have been asking myself more and more as to how it was I got such a kind hearted soul like Myrcella as my daughter."

Cersei internally raged within her own mind at having Robert call Myrcella his daughter but as of late, she found herself faltering in this matter.

While her beautiful lioness held the classic Lannister looks, there were moments as of late where she saw a Baratheon stag stirring within her daughter.

"What do you think they'll call it?"

Cersei blinked, the sudden question tearing her away from her thoughts. "What?"

"I just proclaimed my daughter to be my heir over my eldest son." Robert stated. "I don't think the Dance of the Stags rolls off the tongue like Dance of the Dragons."

A mirthless chuckle escaped her lips. "The Sundering of Stags may sound appropriate."

"Could be. I just hope… it doesn't escalate with how it happened back then."

Cersei hummed to herself. "Atrocity of the Antlers?"

Robert nearly doubled over, damning the pain as his bellowing laughter echoed all around the room with Cersei being unable to help herself and joined in a moment later.

-Vaes Dothrak-

Within the tent she shared with her husband, Dany was finishing up Drogo's braids for the day. As this was occurring, she was conversing with him on a particular subject. One which she sought to use after all this time.

Unfortunately, he was stubborn.

"The stallion who mounts the world has no need for iron chairs." Drogo told her.

"According to the prophecy, the stallion will ride to the ends of the earth." Was her response.

"The earth ends at the black salt sea. No horse can cross the poison water."

"The earth does not end at the sea. There are many dirts beyond the sea. The dirts where I was born."

"Not dirts. Lands." He said, correcting her Dothraki.

"Lands, yes… There are thousands of ships in the free cities. Wooden horses that fly across the sea-"

It was then did Drogo stop her. "Let's speak no more of wooden horses and iron chairs."

"It's not a chair. It's a…" Dany said, trying to think of the Dothraki word but decided to use the common tongue. "Throne."

"Throne?" He asked.

"A chair for a king to sit upon, or a queen." She said coyly.

Drogo turned towards her with a smile. Yet it wasn't the one she was hoping for.

"A king does not need a chair to sit upon. He only needs a horse. This day, I will go to the grass and hunt both Heartless and game."

Dany sighed in defeat. "Yes, my sun-and-stars."

The exiled Targaryen knew her husband was just as reluctant to help her get across the Narrow Sea as he was towards Viserys.

Hopefully if he returned triumphant, his joy would be fierce. Perhaps then he might be willing to hear her out.

Finishing getting dressed for the day, Dany decided she wanted to go out and explore at one of her favorite places here in this city. Moreso now that Viserys was no longer around.

The markets.

You see, merchants practice their trade with the sufferance of the Dothraki, who themselves don't understand buying and selling all that well. For the braided riders merely take and give whatever they desire through fear and conflict.

The markets are a place of freedom for foreign traders. Tradition allows merchants who are coming here to trade free passage through the Dothraki Sea and they are allowed to stay a while provided they respect the Dothraki culture and holy places and live at peace with all. They must also bring tribute to the Dosh Khaleen; the most common payments have typically been salt, silver and seed.

The Western Market is a great square of beaten earth filled with animal pens, drinking halls and a maze of stalls and crooked aisles. Even goods from Westeros -much less other parts of the world- find their way here. Though the merchants who sell them wouldn't know a Lannister from a Frey.

The Eastern Market is, fittingly, a stranger place. The Elders of the Dosh Khaleen view it with suspicion and most Dothraki stay away. In a way, they aren't wrong. The great elephants, basilisks in silver cages and the striped black-and-white horses of the Jogos Nhai are harmless enough. But one can see how the elders wouldn't want their younger members to see the warrior maids of Hyrkoon, who wear iron rings in their nipples and rubies in their cheeks. Or listen to the Shadow Men, who cover their bodies with tattoos and hide their faces behind masks and whisper dark secrets for a price.

It was these locations in the Dothraki city that Dany enjoyed traversing almost daily for they were fascinating in her eyes. She liked the strangeness the Eastern Market bore. But in some part of her mind, it was the Western side which made her think of home. The sharp odors of garlic and peper reminded her of the days long ago in the alleys of Tyrosh. Of a time when she loved to play in the bazaars as a child. Under all that, she smelled the sweet, heady perfume of Lys.

While Dany would enjoy her explorations alongside Xion, Jorah and her handmaidens today, she wasn't entirely happy on the occasion. For she was still thinking of what happened earlier in her hut with Drogo.

"Can't you help me make him understand?" Came Dany's plea.

"The Dothraki do things in their own time, for their own reasons." Was Jorah's response.

"In short, Westeros means nothing to Drogo and his riders." Xion said dryly. "Even though they never bothered wanting to change traditions in the first place. Remember, the Dothraki don't understand Westerosi views and symbolisms. They're just meaningless to them."

Dany had never seen the Seven Kingdoms either, yet she felt she knew them from the lessons she learned and tales her brother told. But he was dead now and his promises with him.

Even if Drogo may not give her the Iron Throne, Dany at least wants to see her birth country to see what it's like through her own eyes.

"I… do agree with her." Said Jorah. "But have patience, Khaleesi. We will go home, I promise you."

Home? What was home to her? A few tales, the fading memory of the Sealord's palace with the red door.

Yet she remembered Xion's words to her that home was where the heart was. And her friends were her home.

Dany never grew close to anyone for a long time, but Xion managed to make it happen within the short span of months since she knew her. In a way, she would outright be happy being anywhere at all as long as her best friend was with her.

She could already imagine it now. Both she and Xion end up at Braavos, living at a nice home with just the two of them. She could find reasonable work somewhere while Xion could become a sellsword or a guard. And if her friend were to dazzle her abilities, they could perhaps end up back at the Sealord's palace with it's red door and it's lemon trees.

Seven Hells, that may have been the case if she didn't listen to these whispers in her head back in Pentos within the few days before her wedding. Whispers telling her to stay with her brother, who was the only family member she had left in the world. Whispers which told her to not leave and marry the Khal, no matter what excuse may come her way.

They just constantly nagged at her day in and day out -even in her slumber- and they just wouldn't stop. It was driving her mad until she finally complied.

Dany honestly wished she didn't listen to them at all. It made her pay the price for a potential happiness between her and her best friend for a better life. If they were to run away now, they would be hunted down by Drogo and his khalasar.

It made her wonder why Xion was still with her, despite the circumstances.

Yes, Xion is still with the Dothraki because of her. Her friend hardly tolerates them, but such a thing can only go so far with their nature of a whole lot of them being slavers and rapists.

From what she remembered hearing of Xion's tales of her time with Organization XIII, much of what she had to experience under Xemnas' grasp was similar -in a sense- with the khalasar.

Her very life was like a plaything to her Superior. Being used for whatever goals he had in mind until there would be no further use of her.

Dany feared there might be a breaking point in the near future. She remembers hearing Drogo wanting to plunder the lands around the Jade Sea as a means of celebrating Rhaego's birth. It would no doubt be then that Xion may do something drastic, much less cutting ties with her and leaving her all alone in the world.

In a sad way, Dany wouldn't blame her. Yet she prayed with all her heart such an event may never occur.

Not wanting to think such dreadful thoughts for a while, Dany recollected the earlier topic and tried to get back into it.

"My brother was a fool-"

"And a moronic, toxic narcissist." Xion interrupted her.

"...That and more, but he was -by right- the heir to the Seven Kingdoms." Resumed Dany. This got a chuckle out from the Mormont. "Have I said something funny, ser?"

"Forgive me, Khaleesi, but your ancestors -Aegon the Conqueror and his sister-wives- didn't seize six of the kingdoms because they were their right. Neither of them had the right to them. All three seized them because they could."

"That and they had dragons." Xion added in.

"Ah well, having a few dragons makes things easier."

Dany made a face as she looked at Jorah. "You don't believe dragons existed."

"Have you ever seen them, Khaleesi?" He said to her. "I believe what my eyes and ears report. As for the rest, it was 300 years ago. Who knows what really happened?"

"Hate to say it, but he's probably right." Said Xion, earning a betrayed look from her friend. "For argument's sake, people often want to change history to suit their purposes. Most would like to forget the past entirely and replace it with something else."

"That's sadly true." Stated the Mormont.

"And yet you have your magics, Xion. And the Heartless are around. They are proof enough that dragons have existed prior to their downfall." Dany pointed out. "And what about all the bones of dragon skulls of the past?"

"I'm not arguing with that, Dany. I'm just saying there may not have been any true recordings of all sides during the Conquest." Xion rebuked. "I mean, I know dragons exist, there's no doubt but history is always written from a biased perspective."

Jorah soon chuckled. "As much as I'd like to continue hearing you two bicker, I wish to seek out the merchant captain."

The two friends halted their argued topic as they eyed the exiled knight curiously.

"What for?" Asked Xion.

"To see if he has any letters for us from Illyrio." He said to the Keybearer. "Besides, I do need to inform him of what happened to Viserys."

"We can come with you to find him." Said the Targaryen.

Jorah merely waved her off. "There is no need to trouble yourself. Enjoy the market. I'll rejoin you two later."

Seeing him walk off, Xion soon turned to the princess beside her. "Why'd you offer joining him?"

"Just wanted to do something productive aside from shopping."

The black haired, blue eyed girl snorted. "I believe with that, I might up your training."

The Targaryen paled. "You wouldn't."

Xion grinned mischievously. "I would. Just to be sure you do something productive."

Dany momentarily became childish as she pushed her arm, earning a laugh in response.

The two friends and the handmaidens wandered half the morning. They procured a number of things like a dozen flasks of scented oils. It was a small bit of pleasure for the Targaryen as she often didn't want to keep burning candles unless necessary.

Her amethyst eyes soon wandered before they soon landed on the sword strapped to her back. The sword procured from her late brother.

"Do you think we can find someone who'll take that?" Dany asked, gesturing to Viserys' sword.

"Maybe. Just need to find the right merchant so we won't get ripped off." Was Xion's response.

Even if Xion has coin to spend on whatever suits her fancy, she wants to get rid of Viserys' sword and use it for a reasonable trade. Having it in their presence is like a constant reminder of the Beggar Prince lingering over them.

Yes she could have given it to Dany so she can use it for later use, but it didn't suit Dany in the slightest on the gaudy design and the style.

"There are moments where I wish a Moogle would be around to make it easier."

"Yes, I remember you describing them." Recalled Dany. "Despite their appearances, they're the best smithers to ever exist."

In No. i's mind, what Dany needed was something slender and fluid that she was able to utilize gracefully and elegantly. The weapons of the Dothraki may suit her but only so much.

No, what Xion needed was a weapon custom made for Daenerys.

"If there's any sign of their presence, we just need to keep a better-"

"Come around one and all and behold charms that shall bring you good fortune, wealth, luck, strength, speed. Name it, I have it." Spoke a boisterous merchant aloud. "I have traveled across the Dothraki sea, the ports of Braavos, the halls of King's Landing, the lands of the Reach and even the eternal empire of Yi Ti."

Upon hearing this, Xion couldn't help but turn her head in the direction of the loud merchant.

While she had heard much about Westeros, Braavos and had already traversed the Dothraki Sea, the empire known as Yi Ti was a place that greatly intrigued her.

Seeing her friend take off, Dany was quick to follow with the other handmaidens.

Appearing in front of a stand, they saw a dark cloaked merchant who's hood seemed to have obscured his facial features. Oddly enough, the only thing they could see were the cobalt blue eyes.

"Hello there, my ladies." the Merchant greeted cheerfully though… There was something unusual about him. "What can this weary traveler do for like minded individuals such as yourselves? Perhaps you'd like to take a look at my wares? What interests you blond hair? Or is it platinum? Hmmmm, depends on the lighting I guess."

Dany, Xion and her handmaidens all blinked upon hearing the rapid fire questions and comments of the man before them.

He was certainly… eccentric, if that was the word used to describe.

"Are you talking to me?"

The hooded man looked around on all sides. "Is there anyone else with that haircolor here, missy?"

Doreah stepped forward and spoke in a stern manner. "You are talking to the khaleesi of Khal Drogo, merchant."

"Oh~~~~... What's that again?" the merchant said in confusion. "That like a… like a dish of some kind? Title? Medical condition?"

The handmaiden grit her teeth, practically snarling when Xion placed a hand upon her shoulder.

"He probably doesn't know the Dothraki customs. You can't fault him for that."

"I heard him say he traveled through the Dothraki Sea?" Doreah pointed out.

Xion shook her head. "Like I said, it doesn't mean he knows the customs."

"Well he should start by showing our Khaleesi some respect." Doreah all but snarled now.

"Respect is earned, not given." Said the merchant.

Dany and Xion shared a look with the latter now eyeing the stranger suspiciously.

"Hmmm." He hummed aloud, the mouth behind the cloth upturning into a smirk. "It appears you share such a sentiment. You're not from around these parts, are you?"

"Not really."

"How would you know such a thing?" Daenerys bluntly asked.

The merchant chortled good naturedly. "Come now, look at her garbs. See anyone else in this entire market wearing a cloak as black as hers? Perhaps mine yes, but the leather, the material, nothing quite like it here. The only place I would assume she would have gotten such black clothing is the Wall in Westeros from the Night's Watch. Though I'm fairly certain that women aren't a part of their order unless something has changed."

No. XIV was having a bit of trouble keeping up with this man and it was clear to see that Dany was doing no better, if not worse then her.

He spoke so fast and constantly seemed to bounce around subjects with the greatest of ease.

The merchant had complete control of the conversation.

"Say… you got a nice sword there."

Xion blinked and saw the merchant was no longer in his stand. Somehow he suddenly appeared by her side, leaning closely to inspect Viserys' sword.

"Whoa, back off!"

The merchant wasn't phased in the slightest as he swiftly got the sheathed weapon off her person without even touching her.

"Hmmm." he held it up, shifting his hands up and down as he inspected the blade. "Decent design but crude and not made for one such as yourself. Could pry off the jewels and metal guard and handle for other uses."

A little sense of unease welled inside of the dark haired Nobody and her friend with what occurred some moments ago.

"How much you want for it?"

"Huh?"

"I can take it off your hands if ya want." The Merchant declared. "It's clear that you don't want it since you're not even trying to take it back from me."

Xion didn't respond, making the man go on.

"Haggle." He resumed. "This is the part where you haggle a price or deal like a bastard."

Dany's expression in an instant became something fierce as she stepped forward and leveled a glare at the man. "I beg your pardon but my friend is not a bastard."

The merchant however waved her off in a dismissive manner. "It's a phrase, blonde, no need to get worked up about it. So, we haggling or we browsing until we haggle?"

The man spoke very strangely compared to most others here.

Very strangely. Almost as if he… didn't… belong in this… World…

Xion's eyes widened considerably and looked up at the man, catching his eyes and finding them to be the gaze of a man who was more than he appeared.

"Who are you?" Xion suddenly asked and the merchant's gaze sharpened considerably.

"Just a wandering traveler." Was the vague response. "Seen a whole many things throughout my life and still seek to see more."

In an instant, with a flourish of his clothes he wore, the merchant held something in front of Xion's eyes that immediately caught her attention.

"Perhaps this is something that can garner your fancy." The Merchant said in an excited tone.

It was a small keychain with a beautiful, curved seashell with a gradient orange and yellow colorization.

"Pretty..." Xion muttered out, subconsciously reaching out to it.

In response, the keychain was dropped into the hand of the former puppet and it seemed to radiate a sort of light in the palm of her hand.

"I take it it's to your liking." He asked with Xion already nodding. "Wonderful. A fair trade indeed. That charm will beholden you with power and strength beyond your imagination."

"I doubt that… trinket is worth an entire sword." Dany spoke up, clearly unsatisfied with this "transaction".

"Hmm~ You're right. What was I thinking?" He said, smacking himself against his head. He then seemed to have disappeared into his tent he had set up and came out a moment later. "These could perhaps help even things out."

The merchant lightly tossed an item, causing Xion to catch it. She then looked at what was being offered.

The item appeared to be a charm with a litany of foreign scripts and symbols etched onto its surface. There was a gradient design to the metal as it shifted from yellow, orange, purple and red.

"What's this supposed to be?" She asked, holding it up for Dany and the handmaidens to see as well.

"I found that in some ruins bordering Yi Ti. I believe it was from one of the Five Forts."

"Quite the tale you're spinning there." Dany said, eyeing the man with clear mistrust.

"Comes with the trade. Helps serve the merchandise faster towards those who're gullible enough to fall for it."

"You still didn't answer the question."

The Merchant laughed. "It's a surprise."

"Tell us what it is." Daenerys now stepped forward.

"Oh~~~~ What a scary look you have there." The merchant said in faux amazement. "But~ nope. See, that charm there will be of use to you far sooner than you would expect. It's only a matter of when you use it."

The Handmaidens and Targaryen Princess continued glaring at the eccentric man while Xion simply inspected the charm in her hand. She then recalled something he said earlier.

"You said "these", not "this". Is there something else you wish to barter with for the sword?"

"You catch on, kiddo." The hooded merchant then withdrew his arm from behind and handed Xion the other item.

It was a hardcover book with a rich, smokey grey leather cover. The inprint was primarily black in color on the gothic and angelic patterns. There was a lock on the side to keep the book closed. Within the main cover were platinum trims and designs on the front, back and the spine. On the front was something similar to the Nobody emblem, but it was rightside up, the heart was complete with a pair of wings underneath it. On the back was another emblem vaguely looking like an eight pointed star with a smaller one located on the spine.

"What's this for?"

"Something to help you learn more than you already know."

Xion scrunched her face as she looked at the two items from earlier. They were interesting and there was something about them which made her curious. And then there was the book. As much as she wanted to look into it now, she'd rather do it at her tent instead of being out and about.

"You probably drive a hard bargain."

"True. But what's a weapon you ain't gonna use in the slightest to some trinkets you'll no doubt enjoy." Was the merchant's cheerful response. "Just remember your responsibility and the rest will come."

Xion's eyes snapped up to the man who bowed and proceeded to begin packing away his wares as the transaction was more or less completed.

"Excuse me." Doreah spoke up. "But in case you're unaware-"

"I..." The merchant cut her off, pointing a finger at her. "Am very much aware that you want nothing from me other than some courtesy of which you have given me none. So with that, I bid you all adieu." He then eyed Xion. "And by the way, no take backs."

They watched as he folded up multiple tarps and cloths holding trinkets and charms and was quick to bring down his tent. In less than a few seconds, the man appeared to have packed away everything he had brought with him and waved goodbye as he walked away.

"...He was strange." Irri said plainly.

"He was rather rude." Doreah hissed, face murderous as she watched the merchant walk further and further away. "Mayhaps Khaleesi you should inform your Khal of this man's transgressions and-"

"You won't accomplish anything." Xion interrupted her with a shake of her head. "Men like him aren't ones to be so easily bested or found. He'll be long gone by the time Drogo returns."

"How can you be so sure?" Irri inquires.

"Experience." Was her vague response.

Dany couldn't help but laugh slightly at the answer. "Come on. There's still much we have left to see and discover here."

Resuming their exploration, they accidentally ran into a pair of individuals.

The first was a light brown, short haired man with a matching beard. He wore garments which seemed to make him resemble a sellsword. Even helped sell the image with the assortment of sheathed weapons strapped to his person.

Next to him was a dark-skinned woman in her early 20's with scars marring the upper side of her left eye and her right cheek. She had a thick facial structure and long black hair tied to a ponytail. Like the man beside her, she also appeared to be a sellsword.

"Sorry." Said the bearded man. "Tight crowd here today."

"No worries." Xion said pleasantly. "Have a nice day."

"You too." Said the scarred woman.

The two groups parted ways as they continued on traversing the markets.

"Rare to see a person of Valyrian descent these days." Commented the man.

"I agree." Said his companion. "Many of them often get sold to pleasure houses or married off to some nobles for their looks alone."

"Somewhat wonder what descended House she's from."

The woman looked back momentarily before shrugging. "Perhaps she doesn't know. The last one we ran into over in Lys was an orphan and didn't even know the slightest of his heritage."

"Right." The man pondered a little as they kept walking past a number of stalls. "Besides that fact, Beskha, I feel she's familiar for some reason."

"How so?"

"When we were last in Pentos, I heard of a Dothraki wedding by the coast. Didn't quite catch who the lucky couple exactly were."

"I think you should've, little brother." She gave a small lecture. "Any bit of information we get these days can be valuable in the future."

"Yeah, yeah… You don't have to constantly remind me."

Once more today, another person bumped into him as he tried to scurry past him.

"Forgive me." Said the grizzled man.

"It's… fine…"

Both of them halted in their spot as they looked at whom they bumped into respectively.

The grizzled man quickly analyzed him and spoke out a word which seemed to startle the sellsword.

"Asher?…"

"Asher" blinked for a moment at the man who stood before him with the accent. It was a Northerner no doubt.

As he took a moment to think to himself, he asked himself as to why a Northerner was here.

There was the Company of the Rose that was made up of the descendants of Northerners from 300 years ago that refused to live under the reign of the Targaryens. But a majority of them had lost their accents by this point.

Then he correlated it to himself.

Asher was here because he fell in love with the daughter of Lord Whitehill, his House's ancient rivals.

An exiled son of the North in a land unlike his homeland.

And before him was undoubtedly a Northerner like himself as he already deduced via the accent but…

The Forrester frowned in thought as he mulled over in taking in the grizzled man's features.

"Jorah." Asher said in recognition. "Jorah Mormont."

The former Lord of Bear Island regarded his fellow Northerner with a melancholy smile. "Asher Forrester… You've grown-"

"What the hell is a seller of men like you doing here?" The Forrester said abruptly with a narrowed glance.

Jorah bristled at that question but made no efforts in offering a rebuttal.

He was honestly surprised that it didn't come out any harsher then it already did.

Much as he would hide or deny it, Jorah would feel eternal shame and regret for actions he had done in the North that led him to self-exile.

"I ought to skewer you for what you've done."

Beskha soon hissed, pulling him back. "Asher, this is clearly not the proper place to do so."

"I do not wish for a fight, Lord Asher." Jorage said calmly. "I assure you."

"You can drop the titles, Mormont." Asher stated, still glaring at the son of the Old Bear. "We're far enough for the North where it matters little here."

On that much, Jorah found himself agreeing with Gregor Forrester's second son.

But still, encountering another Northerner so far from home was more than a mere coincidence. Why would he be here of all places?

"I wonder why you're here away from home, Asher. Last I heard you-"

"That's none of your business." He interrupted the older Northerner sharply, gaze becoming nearly murderous.

For most, they would rather be startled and a bit frightened by the gaze of a Northern warrior.

After the Rebellion, few questioned the capacity and tenacity of Northern warriors. But Jorah was still a Northerner at heart so it would take a great deal to try and frighten a hardened man such as himself.

He took a moment to look over Asher, his companion and thought about the way he reacted to his questioning in him being here.

It didn't take long for the former Northern Lord to put the pieces together and he nodded his head in a solemn fashion.

"I see." Jorah said in a low voice. "You too were cast out from our home."

"Not for selling off men, you traitorous fool."

"Self exile, then." Surmised the Mormont. "Whatever for?"

Asher chose not to answer him.

Jorah looked to Beshka and then back at the Forrester with a raised, expectant brow.

"He's like my little brother." She quickly stated.

"...I doubt Gregor sired you." Jorah jested slightly. "You bear no resemblance to him or his children."

Beskha rolled her eyes. "He's my blood brother."

"That makes more sense. Still doesn't explain why-"

"Gwyn." Asher spoke up, interrupting Jorah, pain evident in his voice. "I fell in love with Gwyn Whitehill."

The Mormont had realization dawn upon his face, everything making sense now.

"Then we are more alike then you realize Asher." Jorah said, taking a tentative step towards the younger man.

"No, we aren't." Spat the Forrester. "Both of us truly loved each other. I left so our families wouldn't go to war. You sold your honor and dignity for a fucking, spoiled woman who cared for wealth."

The Bear shook his head. "But love is what got us both here in the end. Our hearts desired something that only led our Houses to ruin."

"Your House." Asher venomously corrected. "And that's the greatest tragedy. Of all the Houses, it had to be House Mormont. Everyone in the North, everyone respected your House. They represented the absolute best of the North. The loyalty, the ferocity, the camaraderie. Standing tall against anything presented before them. And you..."

Asher appeared to barely restrain himself.

"You who was heralded as a hero during the battle of Pyke turned it all around in a matter of months and brought shame upon the great House of Mormont." He now genuinely spat at the ground between him and Jorah. "Your father joined the Watch after the humiliation you brought upon your family. He joined in hopes of cleansing the stain you wrought. Many understood and overlooked it, but the North will truly remember the utter sin you committed."

Jorah could only look down, eyes closed in shame.

He wanted to shout back, he wished to find the strength to defend himself.

But how could he?

How could he ever find the proper words and actions to defend what he did?

He couldn't.

Of course he couldn't. Jorah can claim to loathe and despise Ned Stark all he wants but it was really just a foil in hiding the true hatred he had upon himself.

Jorah at times still couldn't make sense of how it all happened.

Asher, who was still glaring daggers upon the exiled Northerner, felt a firm hand upon his shoulder.

"Okay, I think that's enough arguments for one day." Said the female sellsword. Beskha soon dragged Asher away before things could perhaps escalate further. "C'mon, little brother, there's still more to see here."

Grudgingly, the Forrester complied and walked beside his blood sister.

Jorah remained where he stood, body tense with his hand clenched firmly around his sheathed sword.

It wasn't hard to deduce the inner turmoil he was going through right now.

The Mormont was an inspired warrior and heir to his Household in his younger years. He proved his metal when taking part of Robert's Rebellion by protecting his fellow Northerners against the Unversed plaguing the land. He had witnessed the climactic conclusion to the war at the Trident and saw the after effects with the capital's sacking.

Through it all, he fought ever harder so he would honor his beloved first wife.

Some years prior to the Rebellion, Jorah married Anna Glover. For a decade, they were truly happy together. Yet not everything was perfect within that time as they were having issues of properly bringing a child into the world. And at it's end, his beloved Anna died following her third miscarriage.

He went through a period of grief and sought happiness like just about everyone else in the world. Jorah received a number of marriage proposals, but none seemed right for him. But before he could properly meet and court a potential candidate, the Greyjoy Rebellion began with the burning of Lannisport.

Like any other Northerner, Jorah took up the cause when Lord Ned Stark called his banners to take part in the war. While he went to go battle at the Iron Islands, his father stayed at Bear Island to defend it against the Iron Islanders.

Jorah was quite the warrior and greatly proved himself at the Siege of Pyke. His actions even rewarded him by having King Robert himself knighting himself for his valor; it was perhaps one of the best moments of his life.

Though it would've been better… if it wasn't for the fact he ended up literally pissing on the king after fighting for hours on end. It was quite humiliating in a sense, but the rain helped cover the act to a degree.

With him freshly anointed, Jorah was requested to take part of a tourney at Lannisport in order to celebrate their victory over the Greyjoys. It was here he met Lynesse Hightower, who he became smitten with her beauty. He eventually bested Jamie Lannister in the lists the jousts overall; thus granting him the right to proclaim Lynesse his queen of love and beauty. It was that very night at the feasts did he approach Lord Leyton Hightower, Lynesse's father, for her hand in marriage.

Following their wedding some days later at Lannisport, Jorah went through several years of bitterness as his marriage was not great at all. His second wife became too demanding, making him rather frustrated. Yet he kept his wedding vow of making her happy no matter what.

This would eventually become one of the biggest regrets he had ever made.

For five centuries, House Mormont possessed their own Valyrian steel sword, Longclaw. And after returning home from Lannisport, his father gifted him the hand and a half handled longsword. He swore he would use it to help bring honor to their House like their ancestors before them.

And yet issues occurred when he was greatly tempted to sell Longclaw -even to the Lannisters, no less- as he became penniless and in debt, due to Lynesse's expensive tastes. But he chose to sell men instead of Lawclaw.

When his shame became known, Jorah fled Bear Island with his Hightower wife and went to Essos. He had thought Lynesse would be supportive of him as he became a sellsword, yet that was proven false as she left him for another. Thus proving his second marriage was a complete waste.

As he fled Bear Island, Jorah left Longclaw behind for his father to possess once more; who would no doubt find a far worthier heir than he.

Valyrian steel is a wonder of the world, much like the infamous Dawn of House Dayne or the Keyblade. Sharper than wits, truer than men, rarer than virtue. But it's edge cannot cut so deep as one's failure towards their loving family nor it's value in redemption.

The exiled Mormont never knew what became of both his father and their Household ever since. So to hear what his father had done since he went into exile from Asher Forrester greatly unsettled him.

He recalled his father planning on voluntarily taking the Black in his later years, just like many Northern Lords of the past. Yet the prospect of doing so to fix the sins of his son practically broke his heart.

He caused his father to take the Black in such a fashion. It was all his fault. His own son brought such shame that his father took the Black to rectify his sins.

But Jorah knew in his heart that-that would never be enough.

He was so distracted with his thoughts, did he forget why he was in a rush in the first place. All Jorah could do now was return to the khaleesi… wherever she may be.

Speaking of, elsewhere in the market the Targaryen was eating some sausages, garlic and peppers off of a wooden skewer. The khaleesi didn't know what the meat was exactly, but didn't care at this time. Ignorance was oddly bliss in this scenario and possibly for the better.

She had to begin consuming more food as of late, due to her eating for two. Dany never knew being pregnant could bring out unique cravings onto her pallet.

Walking past more stalls of the markets, Dany was following her friend as she tried to find a proper sword for her.

"I forgot if I ever asked you for this, but is it possible for me to acquire a Keyblade?" Said the Targaryen, who finished the last of her little meal. "I doubt I could have a more proper weapon more than like the one you wield."

"I don't exactly know." Was Xion's response. "From what I understand, it's not passed down or inherited."

"I do not follow."

"Well, think about it like this Dany." Xion said, calling forth her Kingdom Key Keyblade.

Many looked upon the dark brunette in shock though she completely ignored them and focused on her friend.

"Keyblades aren't passed down, the wielders are chosen." Xion said. "If you have a strong enough will and heart, you can actually manifest or get one that chooses you to be its wielder. There's no inheritance or "birthright" like those families you talk about in Westeros. In a way… you have to earn this power."

Dany gazed upon the Keyblade just before it flashed out of her friend's hand and thought for a few moments about what she had just said on top of what Jorah had told her earlier in the day.

What right did she or the late Viserys have to be the true ruler of the Seven Kingdoms? Her family dynasty was ousted and though a usurper some may claim Robert to be. Five at first and then seven of the great House of Westeros recognize the Baratheon rule. Only Dorne remained resistant and that was only so much as to not provoke further war and bloodshed.

So really, where was her argument based off of that she was the rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms?

All that Dany has left of her family was it's prestige. Prestige of being the last survivors of Valyria. The prestige of being kings of Westeros. The prestige of riding dragons and apparently wielding magic. All of it had slowly dwindled over time ever since the Dance of the Dragons, the Blackfyre Rebellions and lastly the Usurper's War.

Asides from this prestige, all she has left of her family's heritage was her mother's crown and her three stone dragon eggs.

*GASP!*

Dany blinked at her best friend's sudden gasp and turned to see a dust cloud in the shape of her Xion in place of where she once stood.

The Targaryen Princess and her Handmaidens looked about wildly in an attempt to spot just where the teen had up and ran off to but had no luck in spotting her.

Irri spoke up first. "Where in the world did-"

No sooner had she begun to ask did Xion reappear in front of Dany, the platinum blond Princess rearing her head back at the glowing, overly large eyes of her friend.

"I can't believe they have this here!" Xion's voice came out in a high pitched girlish squeal that made Dany, Irri and Doreah openly cringe.

Even the Dothrak Rakharo had to pick at his ears to chase away the ringing in them.

"Seven Hells Xion." Dany said, hand over her chest. "What-"

She didn't even get the chance for another word in as Xion thrusted something in front of her face.

It was a turquoise bar of some kind that appeared to look frozen.

"Sea-salt Ice Cream!" Xion was now jumping up and down giddily. "I can't believe they have this here. Tryittryittryittryit!"

Dany was hesitant when the item was nearly shoved into her face. As she opened her mouth to say something, the turquoise bar on a stick was brought into her mouth.

"MMIUUNN." Dany muffled out, only being met with Xion's bright smile.

She was about to pull the bar out of her mouth when her tongue inadvertently licked…

And licked…

And licked…

Before she knew it, she was moaning and was savoring the unique flavor.

"Good, huh?"

Dany couldn't vocally respond, only nodding her head.

Damn her pregnancy cravings! She never knew something so salty and sweet can be so delicious! It was a unique delicacy.

Irri and Doreah were now curious as to what this treat was and before they could even ask, Xion somehow pulled two more from seemingly thin air and held it out for the two of them.

She even had one for Rakharo.

Soon, the four World natives were eating their Sea-salt ice cream bars with a great deal of joy.

"These are amazing." Doreah proclaimed.

Rakharo got a bit too zealous in his consumption of his own bar and was on his knees with a comical face on display.

"Rakharo." Daenerys said in fright. "Are you alright?"

"Oh~ oops." Xion spoke up sheepishly. "Yeah forgot to mention this. Don't eat it too fast. Your brain freezes up."

"What?!"

"No, no, no, not like that." Xion quickly waved her hands. "I mean the cold just overwhelms your senses and just makes it feel like your brain is freezing. Just give it a moment."

This was translated for the bloodrider and not a moment too soon did he shake his head and stand back up on his feet.

"Sorry Rahko." Xion said sincerely.

"It's… alright, Xion." He winced. Beside him was Irri, rubbing his back which he gave an appreciative nod towards.

"Where did you get these?" Dany asked, holding up her half eaten bar.

"Ah~ I've earned yet another successful customer."

At a nearby stall was a familiar "face".

"You again?" Daenerys said in surprise and annoyance.

Instead of selling charms, accessories and anything of the sort, the dark cloaked merchant they met not too long ago was selling sea salt ice cream.

"Hello~" he waved at them merrily. "I see that there is one who has a more cultured taste than most."

"What are you still doing here?" Dany aggressively asked, clearly not entirely pleased with the sight of the man. "I thought you sold worthless trinkets and charms not… what even is this?"

"What, the lady didn't tell you?" The merchant rhetorically asked, pointing at Xion. "Ice Cream, my dear. The food of the Gods themselves. Or one of them at least. Frozen dairy or milk if you could call, flavored in the most exquisite of details."

"How'd you make such a treat?" Irri couldn't help but inquire. She had found the taste to be extremely fetching.

The merchant laughed in a teasing fashion, finger over his clothed mouth. "Trade secret. It's bad for business if I did."

The next moment, he began shouting in a litany of languages from old Valyrian, to English, to Dothraki, speaking of his treat of the gods that pleased even a dragon.

Soon enough, a number of other passersby crowded around the booth and began buying the ice cream like no tomorrow.

Xion managed to snag several more before the group walked away from the strange man.

"He may be a weirdo but he's alright in my book after this one." Xion declared, holding her ice cream bars aloft as if they were the most sacred treasures in the world.

It was quite a comical sight from the usually kind, calm and fierce Keyblade warrior.

Dany giggled.

Leave it to her best friend to be able to easily pull a reaction such as this one out from her.

"Haven't heard you do that since your brother was crowned by Drogo." Said Irri. "It's good to witness, khaleesi."

Dany smiled shyly. It was sweet to laugh. Yet it felt bitter in a sense on the reminder.

It will be some time before she could properly mourn the brother she once knew. She honestly doesn't know when.

The Viserys fresh in her memories was arrogant, spiteful and cruel and lost his redeeming qualities some years after they left Braavos. The caring and thoughtful person she grew up with was replaced with a toxic narcissist.

"Waking the dragon." Dany recalled Xion saying once some time ago. "Viserys and several of your ancestors demonstrated the concept and proved it's nothing more than a temper tantrum from an entitled brat."

She had to admit her friend was right.

The infamous phrase her brother quoted very often was once a well deserved threat. A great number of her ancestors had properly worked through this time and time again. Yet those who were idiotic made it feel outright weak.

All that earned him in the end was something ironic. He desired a crown. He got one in the form of a melted one which resulted in his demise.

She wondered what her mother would think of her decision of letting her brother die, let alone how it happened.

Would she be disappointed? Would she have been supportive, to a degree?

Rounding a corner, they came upon a wine merchant offering thimble-sized cups of his wares to the passing people. Behind and around him were various sized barrels of a litany of drinks.

"I have sweet reds and savory whites from Lys, Volantis and the Arbor!" He said in fluent Dothraki. "Tyroshi pear brandy! Pepperwine! Firewine! Smokeberry browns and Andalish sours! I have them! I have them!"

The merchant soon spotted the group as they walked in front of his stall.

"Would either of you fine ladies care for a taste?" He asked them before eyeing Dany's baby bump. "I have a sweet red from Dorne. One taste and you'll name your first child after me."

"Sorry, but I already have named my child." Said Dany in the common tongue. "But I'll gander a taste of some wine you're selling."

The wine samples were tempting. Dany did wish to wash her pallet from the ice cream she consumed earlier.

The merchant at first took her for a Dothraki, given her attire and oily hair. He then recognized something else. "My lady, you are… Tyroshi? Can it be so?" He asked in the common tongue as well.

"My accent may be Tyroshi and I wear Dothraki garbs, but I am from Westeros of the Sunset Kingdoms." Dany told him.

Doreah stepped up beside her khaleesi. "You stand before Daenerys of the House Targaryen, Khaleesi of the riding men, Princess and rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros."

"My Lady, you honor me." The Wine Merchant quickly bowed.

"Rise." Dany said with a wide smile, with a chuckle hoping to escape her lips. "I'd still like to taste your wares."

The merchant soon eyed the wine samples presented on his table. "No, no, no. None of these are appropriate- no, worthy of a princess. I have a very fine vintage of the Arbor, nectar of the gods." His hands soon shook a little. "L-Let me give you a cask! Uh- a gift!"

Xion looked at the man curiously as he went further into his tented stall to retrieve this gifted wine cask. He was obviously trying to greatly impress Dany.

Other merchants were a bit more courteous, to a degree. Yet this wine merchant was doing it a bit too much.

She shared a look with Doreah with the handmaiden giving her a shrug that conveyed 'I've seen this a dozen times, they're all like this'.

"You honor me, but you don't have to." Dany called out.

"I insist!" The man returned, casket in hand. "Only the best for a Princess."

Dany's bodyguard and bloodrider soon intercepted the intended path as he held out his hands.

The merchant understood what was intended and handed the wine cask over.

Yet as they broke away, the gaze of the Wine Merchant remained firmly on Daenerys', voice becoming low now.

"There are still many within the Seven Kingdoms that pray for your return, your grace." The Wine Merchant said, a more serious tone in place.

This got a few pairs of eyes to narrow slightly.

"Is that so…" Xion said challengingly.

"Most certainly, my lady." Responded the merchant. "In my travels, many still hold true to the old days when House Targaryen reigned over Westeros."

A feeling was felt in her gut, making her speak out to the bloodrider. "Rakharo."

"Yes, Xion?"

"Can you open that casket? I wanna give this "arbor" a taste." Xion said, eyes not leaving the suddenly tense Merchant.

Dany looked at her friend in confusion. "Something wrong?"

"Just wanna see if this is good enough for you to share with Drogo." No. XIV replied, tone calm and leveled.

The Merchant then stammered. "But the wine is not for the likes of you."

Dany instantly glared at the man with newfound suspicion.

"I believe this was a gift, yes? And I get to decide who shares a drink with me, especially someone as near and dear to me as Xion. Now, would you kindly open it?"

The Wine Merchant looked between Dany and Xion, then to Rakharo who now stood over him.

Hesitation took over, making the wine seller take back the cask and set it down. He then uncorked the top of the cask and waited several moments.

"Go on now." Xion said.

"Do you not know the proper means of letting wine breathe?" Said the merchant. "It's practically a sin for a wine this rich for it to not give it time to-"

"You're stalling." the former Puppet cut him off. "And I don't care for wine breath or any of that nonsense."

"I'm not. I am merely telling the truth."

"Just… pour." Dany stressed out.

Grabbing a sample cup from nearby, the wineseller screwed open the dribble and let the cask's contents pour out. After a certain amount was filled, he screwed the cask back up.

Xion was soon given the cup who took a whiff of the drink. She took several more as the merchant spoke.

"Sweet, isn't it?"

"I can smell a nice fruity aroma." She said before picking up something else.

"Aren't you going to taste? It's delicious, I assure you."

Blue eyes narrowed before bringing the small cup back down.

"On second thought, how about you try it?"

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I'm not worthy-"

"You say that, but I believe some merchants would at least test out their wares before selling it to others. Just to see if it's actually good… instead of spoiled."

The wineseller chuckled with an amilable smile, yet both she and Dany could see the sheen of sweat freshly dripping from his brow. A small tale sign of him being nervous.

"I agree with my friend here." Said Dany, voice suddenly as cold as ice. "You will drink."

With a bit more hesitation, the man took back the cup from Xion's hand. He held the cup in front of his lips and looked about wildly at the people around him before it settled upon Daenerys.

Without warning, the wine was thrown in the face of Rakharo with the cask soon following, causing the bloodrider to fall down. The wineseller then ran off at breakneck speeds away from them all, shoving Daenerys into Xion's arms in the process.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

Doreah all the while was shouting and pointing at the fleeing Wine Merchant who had pushed and shoved aside many in his path.

In an instant, Dothraki began chasing after the fleeing man upon hearing the cries of Doreah that he was an assassin who tried to kill their Khaleesi.

The merchant was tossing and throwing things at his pursuers. Hopefully enough, he can get enough distance from them all so they may lose track of him. If he succeeds, he'll no doubt need to lay low for a while and sneak out of the city.

When he thought he was in the clear, he was harshly tackled from the side and crashed onto the ground.

"Now why are you running all of a sudden?" Said the merchant's tackler. "Causing trouble on this nice day."

"L-Let me go!" The man struggled only to feel another person shove him down to the ground to keep him there.

"Don't think so." Said another voice.

Moments later, Xion, Daenerys and their small party came upon the two that had captured the would-be assassin.

In an instant, Dany and Xion recognized them both. It was a man and a woman sellsword duo.

The same man and woman who they had bumped into by accident earlier.

"It's you two." the Targaryen spoke up in surprise.

"Odd enough to see you lot as well." The man said absentmindedly, appearing to barely struggle in hoisting the man up to his feet.

"Hello again." The woman said politely, helping her friend keep a firm grasp upon the writhing Merchant who kept trying to break free in a vain attempt. "Give us a moment. Asher."

"Right, Beskha."

The female sellsword soon maneuvered her arms to get a proper hold of the wineseller, letting him be in front of her. A moment later, her companion then clocked the would-be-assassin across the face and knocked him out.

"That's better." she said, shaking her wrist casually.

"I owe you both my life it seems."

"Huh?" Asher said in confusion. "What'd ya mean by that? Wasn't this bastard running away?"

"Yes, but he tried to kill me." Dany explained.

"Oh." Beshka nodded, looking down at the unconscious man. "How though? He looks like a toothpick."

"Poison." Xion revealed.

The man spat on the wine seller upon hearing that.

"The coward's method." He said distastefully.

"Now why'd he want to poison one of ya?" The female sellsword asked.

"I don't know. But I'd like to find out." Was the Keybearer's response.

Rahkaro and other bloodriders soon appeared. He soon pointed towards the unconscious wineseller, hoisted him up and dragged him away.

"If you want, you can come with me." Said Dany. "My husband will no doubt want to thank you."

The two sellswords shared a look with each other. "...And who might that be?"

"Khal Drogo."

Asher and Beskha looked over and saw Jorah standing not far away from them.

"You again." Asher said evenly.

Beshka looked between Jorah and the group in front of them. "Sorry, but how would you know?"

"He's with us." Said Xion. "Asides from me, he's Dany's sworn sword."

"Dany?" Asher repeated.

"Daenerys Targaryen."

Asher froze up before warily eyeing the Dragon princess.

"You…"

"Is there a problem?" Xion asked in slight confusion.

"Well… let's just say that my people fought in the Rebellion." Asher revealed, not taking his eyes off Daenerys. "And my side won."

An awkward atmosphere surrounded them in mere moments.

"...Oh…"

-The Wall-

Congregated in the courtyard, just about everyone from Castle Black was present. Lord Jeor Mormont stood tall alongside Ser Alliser Thorne and Maester Aemon with the other high officers -or Firsts- of the Night's Watch Order behind them. The only First not here was Benjen Stark, so it was the Second Ranger who took his place here. Present members stood on the sidelines out of respect, and given the fact they were able to not perform their tasks at this time. And sitting within the central part of the area were all of the recruits.

Reason for this whole little event was for the inductees to be given their assignments once they swore their oaths.

Samwell saw Jon beside him, knowing his friend had wanted to become a member of this Order for a long time. Yet there was the troubled look on his face.

"You're allowed to look happy." Said the plump Tarly. "You're going to be a ranger. Isn't that what you always wanted?"

"I want to find my uncle." Said Jon. "I know he's alive out there. I know he is."

"I wish I could help you, but I'm no ranger. It's the steward's life for me."

"There's honor in being a steward."

"Not much, really. But there's food."

Jon merely shook his head a little at his friend's antics in cheering him up.

Coughing to clear his throat interrupting whatever conversations which took place, Jeor Mormont began speaking with a loud, firm voice.

"You came to us as outlaws, poachers, rapists, debtors, killers and thieves. You came alone, in chains, without friends nor honor. You came to us rich and you came to us poor. Some of you bear the names of proud Houses, others have only bastard's names or no names at all. It does not matter. All that is in the past. Here, on the Wall, we are all one House."

Jeor soon walked down from the elevated level so he may directly look upon the recruits.

"Tonight at sunset, you shall take your vows. Your crimes will be washed away, your debts forgiven. You must abandon your former loyalties and grudges. A sworn brother of the Night's Watch lives not for king nor lord nor House. Neither gold nor glory nor woman's love, but for the realm and all the people in it."

The former lord of House Mormont let the words sink into them all before he continued.

"You have learned the words of the vow. Think carefully before you say them, for the penalty for desertion is death." Said Jeor, making Jon briefly remember the deserters his father had to behead upon capture. "Are there any among you who wish to leave our company? If so, go now."

Many present couldn't actually do such a thing. Crimes which they had enacted had forced them to come to the Wall or they may die or return to prison cells. Others just had nowhere else to go to if they were legitimate volunteers with no crimes hanging over them.

"Good. You may take your vows at sunset before Septon Celladar." Jeor still said firmly.

There was a Sept made for the Night's Watch nearby Castle Black for those who follow the Andal religion. It was made a long time ago sometime after the Andal Invasion with those who follow the Seven-who-are-One to still practice their beliefs.

"Do any of you still keep the Old Gods?" The Lord Commander asked aloud.

Jon soon stood. "I do, my lord."

Aged eyes bore into the Stark bastard. "You'll want to take your vow before a heart tree as your uncle did."

"Yes, my lord."

"You'll find a weirwood a mile north of the Wall near the Haunted Forest. And perhaps your Old Gods as well."

Samwell soon stood, earning a few questioning looks.

"My lord, might I go as well?"

Jeor bore into Samwell with a challenged inquiry. "Does House Tarly keep the Old Gods?"

"No, my lord." Samwell said quickly. "I was named in the light of the Seven, as my father was and his father before him."

It was at this point did Ser Alliser Thorne speak up. "Why would you forsake the gods of your father and your House?"

"The Night's Watch is my House now. The Seven have never answered my prayers. Perhaps the Old Gods Will."

Jeor gave a small nod. "As you wish." He said, ushering the two to sit back down. "You've all been assigned an order, according to our needs and your strengths." Unfurling the rolled up piece of parchment in his hands, the Lord Commander spoke out the names of each recruit. "Halder to the builders. Grenn to the rangers. Joby to the stables. Pip to the stewards. Toad to the builders. Samwell to the stewards. Mink to the kitchens. Matthar to the rangers. Eddison Tollett to the stewards. Dareon to the stewards. Balian to the rangers. Rast to the rangers. Jon to the stewards…"

When Jon was hearing his friends being called out, some of them were more or less able to get their desired positions. He was quite happy for them.

But when his name was called, his heart practically dropped when he was given the role of steward. He tried to think if there was perhaps another Jon here at the Wall as a recruit, but there was none, only him. He couldn't believe what he heard. He started to rise, saying there had been a mistake.

Yet he stayed seated. For at that moment, he saw Ser Alliser studying him, eyes like flakes of obsidian with a small quirk to his lips; causing Jon to know what occurred.

After speaking out ten or so more names with their assignments, Jeor rolled up the piece of parchment. "Your Firsts will instruct you on your duties. May all the Gods preserve you, brothers."

People started to depart with the recruits going to their respective Firsts to await further instructions. As for the Stewards, they had to report to Maester Aemon first.

Jon merely stayed there at first, still reeling from what rang in his ears. Before long, he had to move as he was starting to stand out. In mere moments, he stood alongside the other stewards in front of Maester Aemon who was already giving out tasks.

"Samwell," said the aged Maester. "You will assist me in the rookery and library."

Some of Samwell's friends nudged him, knowing his desired position became ever more easier.

"Pyp, you will report to Bowen Marsh in the kitchens." Continued the old man. "Eddison, you'll go to Bowen Marsh for further instruction. Luke, report to One-eyed Joe in the stables. Dareon, we are sending you to Eastwatch. Present yourself to Borcas when you arrive. Make no comment about his nose. Jon Snow, Lord Commander Mormont has requested you for his personal steward."

"Will I serve the lord commander's meals and fetch hot water for his bath?" Jon said bitterly.

"Certainly. And keep a fire burning in his chambers, change his sheets and blankets daily. And do everything else the lord commander requires of you."

Jon stepped forward and reigned in a snarl. "Do you take me for a servant?"

"We took you for a man of the Night's Watch. But perhaps we were wrong in that."

"...May I go?"

"As you wish."

Jon didn't take a second longer and stormed off. Pip, Samwell and Grenn ran after him.

"Jon!" Sam cried out. "Don't you see what they're doing?"

"I see Ser Alliser's revenge, that's all. He wanted it and he got it."

Practically everyone at the Wall knew how much Jon wanted to become a Ranger. If he didn't get the position, he would be devastated and the Master-at-Arms wanted to capitalize on the opportunity.

"There is no shame in being a steward-"

"Stewards are nothing but maids!" Jon snapped at Samwell. "I'm a better swordsman and rider than any of you! It's not fair."

"And what makes you think it's fair for everyone in the world? Especially with how people come here these days." Said Edd.

Before the Tollett could continue, Pip spoke up a confession with stress and frustration in his voice.

"I was singing for a high lord at Acorn Hall when he put his hand on my leg and he wanted to see my cock. I pushed him away and he said he'd have my hands cut off for stealing their silver. So now I'm here -at the end of the world with no one to sing for but old men and little shits like you. I'll never see my family again. I'll never be inside a woman again."

This bit of revelation got the other guys present to be disturbed in a sense.

"I thought you were caught stealing a wheel of cheese for your starving sister." Said Samwell, reeling in some surprise from what he just heard. He had heard a few rumors about the lord of Acorn Hall from some kitchen staff, but it wasn't really confirmed… until now.

"You think I was gonna tell a bunch of strangers that a high lord tried to grab my cock?"

"Yeah, that would be outright embarrassing and seemingly unbelieving." Said Edd, wanting to pat the bard on the shoulder, but withheld. He soon looked Jon in the eye. "Since we're all sharing here, I'll say my volunteer story was partially true because I was tricked."

"Tricked?" Said the bastard of Winterfell.

"I was living a decent life as a squire. Yet I was unlucky with women back home and I was approached by a recruiter as I was getting heavily drunk off my ass after a very bad day. He told me that women can't resist a man in uniform. My head wasn't there as my urges took over. So I said yes, not remembering about the vow of celibacy. Next day, I woke up in a whore's bed and had to immediately head back to attend to my duties. Next thing I knew, I was being ordered by my lord to go to the Wall, all because the recruiter told him of my "acceptance", even if it wasn't of my free will. I denied and denied, yet I couldn't get out of it."

Edd soon slouched in his posture, a bitter look in his eyes.

"Damned oaths." Edd said, shaking his head. He then eyed Jon with a stern look.

"When I talked to Roxas when he was here, I learned you could've gone anywhere else in the world. No one would really care, if you didn't give out your name here in Westeros. Yet you chose to come here. Not because of a crime or being forced to, you willingly chose to. And for what, seeking some kind of glory at the Watch? In the end, you're just peeved because you're not following your uncle's footsteps and becoming a ranger."

Jon swallowed a rebuttal hard, looking down and away from the more experienced Night's Watch member. Especially when both he and Pip walked away from them.

"Well, chin up Jon." Sam nudged his friend on the shoulder. "It's not all bad."

"How can you say that?" Jon snapped at him, wincing upon realizing what he did. "Sorry."

Sam frowned at his friend's demeanor, reaching up to place a hand on his shoulder.

"Listen to me, Jon. Jeor is the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch." Samwell reminded his friend. "You'll be with him day and night. Yes, you'll clean his clothes. But you'll also take his letters, attend him at meetings, squire for him in battle. You'll know everything, be part of everything. And he asked for you himself. Don't you see? He wants to groom you for command."

It took a while for Jon to process this before speaking up.

"I just… I always wanted to be a ranger."

"I always wanted to be a wizard."

Jon snorted before he released a chuckled laugh.

"What? No, I'm serious." Said Sam as Jon tried calming down from his fit of laughter. "I thought it may have been a childish fantasy, but seeing Roxas do those spells… I don't know if I really can now."

Jon sighed, running his hand through his hair. "Sorry… I was just acting childish."

He forgot his uncle's words when he saw him last. "A man only gets what he earns."

He may not have earned the way of being a Ranger, but he may earn something more instead through his potential.

"I just wanted to be a ranger, so I can find my uncle more than ever now."

"I don't blame you, Jon." Said the plump Tarly with a bitter smile. "So you'll stay and say your words with me?"

Jon gave Sam a bitter smile of his own. "The Old Gods will be expecting us."

The sun was setting in the east by the time when the vow ceremony was taking place.

They led their horses down a narrow tunnel cut through the ice. The air was colder than a tomb, and Jon felt a strange relief when they emerged through the other side with the wooden, iron gate hovering above them.

In mere moments, a white blur rushed past them, showing Ghost was taking off to explore new territory. Not that Jon could blame him, confided within Castle Black ever since their arrival.

"The wildlings," Sam said slowly. "They'd never dare come so close to the Wall. Would they?"

Jon couldn't give a proper response to him of reassurance. Wildings have come close and crossed over an unknown amount of times in the past. It was the Northerners who had to pick up where the Night's Watch slacked off when they weren't paying attention.

Along the way to the Haunted Forest, they seemed to have entered a different world. Every shadow seemed darker, every sound more ominous. And the thin crust of fresh snow cracked beneath the horses' hooves with a sound like breaking bone.

At one point, one of the Watchmen halted their little group.

"Dismount and leave your horses." He said as he followed through with his action. "We can't defile the grounds."

The group traversed further to their destination. There they arrived at the Weirwood Heart tree with the carved, molded face with red sap flowing from its eyes, nostrils and mouth. It's blood-red leaves littered the snow as the two knelt in front of it.

Remembering the vows, the pair recited them aloud in unison.

"Hear my words and bear witness to my vow. Night gathers and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no land, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glories. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold. The light that brings the dawn. The horn that wakes the sleepers. I am the shield that guards the realm of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come."

"You knelt as boys. Rise now as men of the Night's Watch." Said one of the Watchmen accompanying them.

Jon rose and soon helped get Sam onto his feet. After a few brief moments of struggle, both now stood as men. They hugged and congratulated each other as they can now return to the Wall as members of the ancient order.

"We best return." Said another Watchmen. "It'll start getting dark soon."

As the group started to return to their horses, Jon hanged back as he wanted to retrieve his dear direwolf.

Before he could call out his name, he saw his albino companion coming out of the forest with something in his mouth.

"What's he got there?" Asked Sam.

Jon knelt down and held out his hand. "To me, Ghost. Bring it here."

His direwolf trotted up and dropped what he had within his toothy maw before his human companion.

"Gods be good!" Said Sam, shocked and disgusted.

It was a severed hand.

-The Red Keep-

Traversing through the corridors, Ned kept two of his personal guards with him. He didn't feel quite safe now things were escalating further beyond he could imagine. He was slowly becoming paranoid as a result. Worried there might be knives in the shadows and come at him when he least expected it.

In a sad, twisted way, it was as if he was walking in the Mad King's shoes.

Upon making his way to the Tower of the Hand, he spotted Renly leaning against a pillar. He was cleaned up after the bloody mess he was previously in. He was calmer than from the utter shaken state, but the remnants were still in his blue eyes.

The Baratheon soon took notice of him, left the stonework and approached.

"Lord Stark, a moment." He requested as he soon eyed the two Stark guards beside the Hand. "Alone if you will."

Ned thought for a moment before accepting the request. He can be safe for a time as he knew Robert's youngest brother would not bring him any harm.

Dismissing his guard and ordering them to meet him outside of the corridor, Ned finally spoke to Renly in private.

"How do you fare?" Ned inquired, obvious for the older man to see Renly was still rattled.

"A bit better." Answered the Master of Laws. "Just so much blood and so many dead. I'll probably have nightmares of it for a long while."

Ned shared his sympathy with the Stormlander as he knew how those went.

"Was there something you wished to speak to me about?"

"I saw the letter from when you left Robert. Was it the regency?" The Youngest Baratheon sibling asked.

Ned nodded slowly. "His last command if he may pass on. A means of insurance."

"And he named you Protector of the Realm, I take it."

"He did."

"Ned… You know as much as I do that Cersei won't care." Renly composed himself more and did his best to stand taller. "Give me an hour and I could put a hundred swords at your command."

"And what should I do with a hundred swords?"

"Strike. Tonight while the castle sleeps. We must get Joffrey and Myrcella away from their mother and into our custody; despite what protests Robert may give out. Protector of the Realm or no, he who holds the king holds the kingdom. And Cersei will not dare oppose us."

"Robert isn't dead yet, Renly. Hopefully the gods may spare him. But I will not dishonor him by shedding blood here and dragging Joffrey and Myrcella from their beds." Ned said in a tone that brokered no arguments.

"Every moment you delay gives Cersei another moment to prepare. I don't know if Robert may recover in time, but it may be too late for everyone."

The Hand already took this into consideration of Cersei's scheming. It's what's been on his mind for these past hours.

He doesn't know if Cersei will want Myrcella to rule, but she would definitely want Joffrey instead.

"What of Stannis?" Asked Ned.

"Saving the Seven Kingdoms from Cersei and delivering her present children to Stannis? You have odd notions about protecting the realm." Renly almost scolded yet kept his tone in check.

"Stannis has the Royal Fleet at Dragonstone." Ned argued. "He can safeguard his territory quite well if we decide to go with your plan and take them there. It would make things much harder to crown Joffrey if he was away from being properly ordained. Same would happen for Tommen over at Casterly Rock as his brother would still be alive. Besides, Stannis is your older brother and he-"

"This isn't about the bloody line of succession." Interrupted the Master of Laws. "That didn't matter when you rebelled against the Mad King. It shouldn't matter now. Tell me, what's best for the Kingdoms? What's best for the people we rule? We all know what Stannis is. He inspires no love or loyalty."

Ned was silent as he argued with himself if he wanted to tell Renly the specifics with Robert's potential final command. It may change his mind on the matter.

Of course what he was hearing from Renly's mouth about some views of his brother wasn't professional, just biased as a sibling squabble of a younger brother towards an older one.

Yet before he could tell him, Ned was shocked with what Renly proclaimed next.

"He's not a king… I am."

"...Excuse me?"

"You heard what I-"

"I know what you said. But I have to be honest with you. You're not qualified to be a king." Ned saw Renly tense as he gave some arguments. "Stannis is a commander. He's led men into war twice. He safeguarded Storm's End. He destroyed the Greyjoy fleet-"

"Yes, he's a good soldier. Everyone knows that. So was Robert." Complained Renly. "Tell me something: do you still believe that good soldiers make good kings?"

Ned didn't seem to have a proper answer for that.

"It depends…" Was all he could mutter out.

Renly huffed a little. "Might isn't always right." Ned looked upon him as the Baratheon continued. "Remember what happened with King Daeron II? Many had seen him as weak; who only listened to women, maesters and the Dornish. Others thought Daemon Blackfyre was the proper man to sit on the Iron Throne, due to him being a good commander who was legitimized and obtained the Conqueror's sword Blackfyre. Who knows if that was the case, but in the absolute ending truth, it was the other way around. Daeron was the better ruler because he was thinking for the realm and was supporting it with his entirety in order to fix his father's mistakes. And he may not have been as strong as he appeared, but he was with his mentality."

Before the Hand could speak back, Renly spoke once more.

"I don't know if you're too blind with your honor and warrior's mentality you Northerners are known for, but we all must move on from the past and into the future. I, for one, am tired of it and wish to move on so I may survive. So if you wish for my help, come find me before it's too late."

Renly never gave Ned the chance to respond as he walked out of the corridor and left the Hand alone.

The Northerner released a frustrated sigh, as he exited the space to reunite with his Household guard.

When he made it to the Tower of the Hand, he was greeted with the sight of the former Kingsguard member awaiting him.

"My lord protector." Said Lewyn, earning a dry look from the Hand. "Your conversation with Renly wasn't exactly quiet when I was passing by."

Ned didn't even care who knew what within the Red Keep by this point. "So you heard."

"To a degree." Was the response. "So it's true, then."

"In a sense." Said Ned as the two entered his office. Closing the door behind him, Ned exhaled a tired sigh. "Just so much is happening now."

"I can imagine." Lewyn walked over and procured a bottle of wine from the nearby cabinet. He poured two glasses before handing one to Ned for him to drink. "What exactly troubles you? I doubt it's just what Renly suggests doing."

As Lewyn began drinking from his cup of wine, Ned dropped the surprise on him.

"The king has no true born sons."

The elder Martell nearly choked on his wine when hearing this. He coughed a few times to clear his wind pipes before curiosity took hold.

"Truly?"

"Yes."

Lewyn opened and closed his mouth several times, attempting to make sense of what he just heard. "How can you be so sure?"

"It was what Jon Arryn was looking into prior to his death. It's what I've been somewhat doing since I came here. Getting physical proof." Ned revealed.

"With what?"

Ned began by withdrawing the tome labeled "The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms" and opened to two book marked pages: House Lannister and House Baratheon.

"Cloud, Roxas and I have been seeing numerous bastards throughout the capital. Each and every one of them black hair and blue-eyed. A dominant trait of the House Baratheon." Said the Hand before pointing towards two particular passages. "There is even a recording of the last two times a Baratheon and a Lannister had wed some ninety years ago and thirty years prior to that."

Lewyn looked over the first passage in question as it was depicted by Grand Maester Malleon of one Tya Lannister and Gowen Baratheon. Their only child died at infancy which bore hair as black as night. And the second was on the Lannisters as it showed a male member taking a Baratheon maid as his bride. All three of their children were daughters, each of them had black hair and blue eyes.

"That is rather surprising." Muttered the Dornishman. "No one really picked up on it unless they really looked into it."

"Indeed." Ned remarked. "It means that Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen aren't Robert's children, but bastards from Jamie's loins. Thus when Robert eventually dies, the throne passes to his brother, Lord Stannis."

Lewyn held a scrutinizing look upon the pages open to him and cleared his throat a moment later. "I… wouldn't be so sure."

Eddard blinked. "Pardon?"

"Did you really look at the three of them? I mean actually doing so?" Lewyn stressed.

"I don't follow. All three of them are golden haired."

"And their eyes?"

The Stark was stumped with what the former Kingsguard member was implying.

"The eyes often change over time, Lord Stark. Same as hair when one grows older. I've seen it before a number of times; outside of people growing old and bearing grey or white hair. One such example is my grand-niece Rhaenys. The first few years of her life, her hair and eyes were really dark as any typical Dornish you come across. It was months prior to the Tourney at Harrenhal did the Targaryen traits slowly surface. A silvery-white streak graced her hair while amethysts cracked through the coals in her eyes."

Ned's mind quickly halted as it tried to work with what Lewyn was stating. More so when he continued.

"I recall a member of House Velaryon prior to the Dance of the Dragons, he married a Southern Islander during his travels around the world and she bore him a son, Corlys Velaryon. Blackened skin with the Valyrian hair with his dark eyes soon shining the well known amethysts. Eventually Corlys' children slowly bled out their Southern Islander traits after some generations, but it does comes up every once in a while."

By this point, Ned slowly pieced a few more things together. Him thinking about Cersei's children. All of them having golden hair and green eyes-

No…

Robert's voice could echo through his head when he recalled talking about having Myrcella as his heir instead of Joffrey.

'Her beautiful eyes.'

"Myrcella…"

"Now you get it." Lewyn said aloud. "You were perhaps partially true to your findings. Robert has no true born sons. But he may in fact have a true born daughter, given that her Lannister green eyes are starting to reveal Baratheon blue as of late."

"Myrcella is indeed the heir to the Iron Throne. Robert even named her as such…" Ned then facepalmed as he released a groan. "I think I just dug my own grave."

Seeing the normally composed Stark Lord in such a manner was truly a strange sight to see.

"How so?"

The Stark brought his cup to his lips and downed every drop of wine in one gulp. This made Lewyn worry on what exactly Ned enacted.

"I already sent Jory out earlier to deliver a direct message to Stannis, proclaiming him as the rightful heir as Robert has no trueborn children."

The former Kingsguard visibly cringed upon hearing that. "Fuck me, Lord Stark."

"I'd rather not, Lewyn." Ned said, face buried in his hands. "I fear I may have started a Civil War."

"Now, now, let's not-"

"Have you forgotten the Rebellion already, Martell?"

"That was honestly justified in hindsight." Lewyn countered. "Unjust murder of the Lord Paramount of the North and the heir along with the kidnapping of the daughter? Come now, House Martell was ready to do the same after the fate that befell our beloved Elia."

"But this isn't like that, Lewyn." Ned shot back.

"No, it's not. But it may be prevented if we don't act quickly." The knight said in a placating manner.

The Hand of the King stared up at him.

"...We?"

"I'm in this mess with you now." Said the Martell. "I promised my House that I would help you as Oberyn intended with your friendship."

"But… you don't-"

"Some of Dorne may think of you as nothing more than the King's lapdog during the Rebellion." Lewyn cut him off. "But we the Martells know better and owe you as much. If it weren't for your intervention with Ven, I would surely be dead. And why is it that House Dayne, a House many would assume to hate you, has their heir named in your honor?"

At the mere mention of House Dayne, Ned's vision flashed to that of haunting violet eyes and a melodic laughter that caused his heart to clench up in an ache.

Grey eyes were downcasted as their owner couldn't meet the Martell in the room.

"So raise your head, Lord Stark." Lewyn stated. "There is work to be done. You are now Hand of the King and Protector of the Realm. All that power is yours, yet you need help using it."

Ned sighed aloud, looking up to face the former Kingsguard. "And what do you suggest I do?"

"For starters, your fuck up." Lewyn soon listed off the details. "Your captain of the guard had left with an important letter. Depending on when he left, you can get him back or intercept the message towards Stannis so you can fix your mistake. I don't know how well the winds and currents are, but I recommend using one of Roxas' Nobodies he leant us to deliver a new message to replace the one Jory has right now."

"That… might be the best option. Hopefully it may work without him noticing. I don't want to startle him with the Nobody's presence."

"And I wouldn't blame you."

"What else do you have in mind?"

"Cersei." Lewyn said evenly. "Like it or not, I have to agree with Renly's suggestion to a degree. Limit her control if she decides to backstab you if she wants to have Joffrey on the throne instead of Myrcella. I wouldn't put it past her, given she'll want to rule through her son."

"This is quite the risk."

"Only if we lose."

The Stark rubbed his eyes as he soon nursed himself with some more wine.

"You're right. I do need every help I can get."

"How so?"

"If it weren't for recent events, I would seek out Lord Baelish's help. He had promised my wife he would help, but…"

"But what? What are you talking about?"

"I had him arrested on his actions of murder and conspiracy towards Jon Arryn."

The aged Martell made a bewildered face, no doubt knowing that is quite the story to hear.

"I… when did this happen?"

"When I had sent Cloud to deal with freeing Tyrion Lannister from the clutches of my wife, I had it where he was to deliver a letter to Lysa Arryn. It detailed her warrant for questioning." Ned opened a drawer and pulled out a rolled up scroll. "I received a letter from her last night as it detailed what occurred. I just didn't expect it to escalate."

He held it out for Lewyn to take and the Martell did just that and opened the letter in hand.

Reading over each line slowly, Ned watched as Lewyn's eyes grew wider and wider until he got to the end and looked up at the Hand of the King in shock.

"Seems Cersei and Jamie weren't the only ones who did bloodline theft." Spoke the Hand. "I can only imagine how the Vale will react. Them calling out for Baelish's blood."

Carefully, Lewyn poured himself another cup of wine and drank it all.

"Seven Hells." Lewyn murmured. "I sometimes forget how much blasted backstabbing and assassinations occurred here in the capital."

"And many wonder why the Starks and the rest of my people have always preferred it to stay up North." Ned remarked.

"Good thing you all did." Lewyn couldn't help but comment. "Every time you all did, strife and change followed shortly after."

"If only I could have done what my ancestor Cregan did." Ned said, shaking his head a second later. "Back to the matter at hand. The queen has dozens of nights and a hundred men-at-arms which is enough to overwhelm what remains of my household guard."

"And you wish for mine." Lewyn surmised.

"I do. But it's not enough with your hundred spears. I need the City Watch, which is 2,000 strong and sworn to defend the king's peace."

The former Kingsguard gave out a small hum. "Like it or not, you know what needs to be done. It's a tough potion to swallow as it's not honorable. But I do say Cloud Strife is right that honor needs to be put aside for the time being. When the queen proclaims one king and the Hand proclaims another, whose peace do the gold cloaks protect?"

"The one who funds them."

"Yes. Baelish is incarcerated, so they won't get any more coin from the crown until a new Master of Coin is established. So they may be placed into the Lannister's purse."

Ned leaned back in his seat and stared at the ceiling. Exhaling a sigh, the Northerner knew what else they'll require.

"We might need the use of Roxas' Nobodies more than we would like." Ned stated.

"Do you think they'll be enough?"

"Roxas assured me that only individuals similar to his capabilities can even stand some form of chance against them." Eddard assured. "I've been having them patrol all of King's Landing from the shadows since his departure and they've been keeping me up to speed on the goings on within the capital."

"...How does that work?"

"Messages." Ned said, pulling out a small parchment from his tunic. "Only Roxas understands their language but they are intelligent and can write."

The elder Martell chuckled with a shake of his head. "Seven Hells. Once more, I find myself envious of the stroke of luck the North obtained."

"Some people are, even if they just can't admit it."

Lewyn nodded as he left the Hand's office so he may get things prepared on his end.

Being left alone now, Ned wondered a few things pertaining to Roxas as he began writing a new letter for Stannis.

Because of him, in some sense, the North was starting to change for the better. After gods knows how many years, the North was slowly starting to prosper and obtained means of being safe. It'll be a difficult road on the latter, but his fellow Northerners were made of sterner stuff.

People had greatly seen Roxas as a beloved protector, yet he never wanted to be in the spotlight. He wanted peace, despite wanting to help serve the populous, while never wanting the Iron Throne. But Ned believed that would need to change with the times.

In a sad way, Ned had to agree with Robert on his decision. It was just merely difficult to wrap his mind around it all and come to terms with it.

Hopefully he can resolve his present issues in time before it's all too late.

-Meanwhile-

As he tried to sleep, Robert kept failing in the process. His mind was still active, making it impossible to properly succumb to slumber. He could only come in and out of it over the span of gods' knows how many hours.

His instincts, while dulled significantly from his time drinking and whoring over the years, told him something was wrong. He felt neither weaker nor stronger. Just stagnant, in a sense, as he tried to heal and rest after being administered a number of Potions by Pycelle earlier.

The Baratheon slowly moved his head to the side and saw a dark figure present in his bedchambers. His vision slowly focused, revealing more details of the present being.

"Finally coming to, your majesty." Said an all too familiar and sinister voice.

Blue eyes slowly widened as their owner started to breathe rather harshly.

"You… bastard!" Snarled Robert.

His guest chuckled as he merely sat on the nearby chair with one leg crossed over the other. In his one hand was a rather small book which was open while the other held a glass cup filled with the finest wine in the Red Keep.

"Don't blame you on waking up and having me be the first thing you see." He said, taking a sip of the delicious drink. "You just can't handle-"

Robert soon roared at the top of his lungs. "Guards! GUARDS! VANITAS IS HERE!"

"No one outside this room will hear you." Vanitas said plainly, bright yellow eyes not looking away from the book's contents. "And for good measure, I basically froze the men stationed out the door. They won't sense a thing until I drop my spell."

The black haired Keybearer didn't freeze them in ice, he merely froze their perception to time. The fun wonders of casting Stop on some people who have little to no magical resistance. Yes, he's still feeding the spell -and few others- at this time, but it's worth it for this present meeting.

Seeing as he's on the great end of a disadvantage, in more ways than one, Robert could only glare at the dark Keyblader with fury which lived up to his House's words "Ours is the Fury".

"What in Seven Hells do you want?" Robert snarled viciously, vision reddening as he continued to gaze upon the only other man he ever hated more than Rhaegar Targaryen.

"Quite a number of things." Vanitas said with a start, not looking away from the book he was still reading. "Chaos being an obvious one. Spreading misery just about everywhere I go and getting stronger as a result. My Unversed gotta have their meals coming in on the daily you know."

Vanitas snapped his book shut and casually tossed it away.

"Most importantly, I'm here for a job." The dark haired fighter spoke, tone deadly serious now though the taunting smirk was still in place.

"You're here to kill me." Robert stated more than asked.

Vanitas shrugged. "In a sense."

"Well then get it over with." The Baratheon King knew he was defenseless against this man. His body was refusing to move from all the pain, much as he wanted to rage against this monster but even Robert knew he stood no chance against this bastard.

"Oh not yet. I'm rather patient." Vanitas wagged his finger at the King.

"Heard the same thing about the Faceless Men."

From what he learned from some maesters throughout his life, not only were these expert assassins heavily expensive, but were greatly feared for their craft. Despite a contract being made, their agents can take their time in taking care of the job. They're oftly crafty with how unsuspecting they were as it could happen at a moment's notice or years later on.

Vanitas let out a condescending laugh.

"Please~~~, those Faceless Men pale in comparison to what I can do." He said, soon drinking the rest of his wine before tossing the cup away and letting it shatter. ""Don't youEach of those people merely offer their lives towards an ancient elemental being with the lives of others. For me, there's no middleman at all. Yes I'm "hired" to take you out, but I do take pleasure in my work unlike them."

Robert couldn't help but snort derisively at the black haired teen. "Because you're a sick, demented fuck who takes pleasure in the suffering of others."

"And you don't?"

"I'm not an evil fucker like you!" Robert bellowed, voice reverberating around the room.

He blinked when the yellow eyes of Vanitas were now mere inches from him.

"Oh, but you are "King" Robert. You most certainly are." Vanitas said in a low, manic voice. "Pretty sure you lost one of your closest friends that day when the bodies of children were presented before you. Heheh, I can see that tooth Ventus knocked out is still missing."

The Baratheon used up all the strength he could muster in an attempt to grab Vanitas who easily swatted the hand away.

"They were Rhaegar's spawn." Robert spat out hatefully.

"You are one stubborn asshole, you know that right? Still blinded by your hate towards them, all because of the many slights towards you and your House in a span of a generation." Vanitas shook his head. "I mean, I always thought I had sick thoughts but then I followed Ventus to this World and man did you guys open my eyes to how fucked up things can be."

Robert's rage was momentarily halted when Vanitas said "this World" but brushed it aside as he focused back on the issue at hand.

"They come from a demented house of mad fools who had run Westeros into the ground." Robert argued back.

"And like you did anything better, hypocrite?" The dark Keybearer said with a roll of his eyes. "My god, conceited, stubborn, delusional, I can go on but I feel like I'd run out of words to describe how twisted and screwed up this World is."

"I don't want to hear a lecture about morality and righteousness from a fucker who is as vile as the Mad King!"

"I wonder if your precious She-Wolf would have approved of your comments on Princess Elia's dead children. They were friends, if I recall, through their mutual relationship with Ventus."

Robert's fury reached an all time high, managing to actually sit up in his bed and make another attempt at grabbing Vanitas who casually took a step back.

"Oh lookie here, the fat king trying to strangle me. How scary~"

"YOU DON'T GET TO TALK ABOUT LYANNA STARK YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" The King roared in unrestrained rage. "BRING YOUR UGLY MUG OVER HERE SO I CAN RIP IT OFF FROM YOUR SHOULDERS."

Vanitas only "tsked" mockingly. "Temper, temper your majesty."

Robert was barely able to keep himself on his bed as he glared and seethed murderously at the teen just an arms length away.

What he wouldn't give to have his war hammer right about now and drive it deep into the bastard's head.

"I can see that ya still "love" your deceased beloved." Vanitas remarked. "Or… were you in love with the idea of her? I know she never loved you."

"Keep talking you little fucker, keep talking." Robert seethed, face turning beat red.

"Truth is a funny thing. Does it live in the world or in the mind? Is it constant or can it be bent? Who decides what's true in the cosmic struggle of light and darkness? There is no greater power." Vanitas lamented.

"The hell are you talking about now?" Robert growled. "Do I look to be in the mood for riddles?"

"To a degree, the cause you sought so hard for in your Rebellion was built on a lie."

This momentarily stalled the King's rage. "...What?"

The dark haired boy merely shrugged and began the small tale. "Yes Brandon Stark did come here and seek the return of his sister after Rhaegar took her. But he was captured while his friends were all killed. Granted he did threaten the crown prince's life if he didn't follow through with the demand, so that one was on him."

A chuckle soon escaped his lips as the Keybearer continued. "His father came here in response, seeking peace and freedom for his firstborn son. Unfortunately he was soon put to death on the pyre while Brandon strangled himself to death in order to save him. This soon sets off your precious Rebellion against the Targaryens." Vanitas gave the man a wicked smile that promised nothing but pain in the next statement to come. "What neither of them -and practically all of the realm- knew was that your precious Lyanna wasn't exactly taken by Rhaegar at the God's Eye. She left with him on her own free will."

In an instant, whatever anger Robert had held suddenly and abruptly left him just like that.

"Wh-what?"

"Oh? You want me to repeat it?" Vanitas asked mockingly. "Lyanna left your sorry ass for the pompous prince you killed so violently. He never kidnapped her. She followed him after hearing the sweet, delusional promises of freedom… from you."

All color drained from Robert's face. "...Y-You lie!"

"You wish I was, but I'm merely being honest here." Vanitas informed him in sadistic fashion. "I can lie and lie to my heart's content, but I don't get much out of it. The truth -however- can be all so satisfying and hurtful when the lies have fermented long enough like a fine wine or a tasty loaf of bread. You were just so blinded with the itty-bitty lie, you saw it as the one and only truth that you never bothered to realize the facts."

Robert sought to use what strength he could muster and fly off the bed. His body was soon seized by darkened chains springing out and holding down his limbs.

He looked at Vanitas with wild eyes, seeing the teen had raised his hands and had conjured the chains that now held him down.

"You drove your precious betrothed away because of you continuously whoring about. You never bothered to interact with her when you first met her, proclaiming that you already have won her as your promised bride. Thus you drove her into another man's arms. You drove her towards a person who saw her nothing more than a broodmare for his loins. All because you couldn't shape up and start becoming a better man once your betrothal was announced."

Robert's heart rate was going at a breakneck rate as Vanitas continued on.

"Because of what and who you are, you drove your best friend's sister into the arms of a man that treated her no better than to be a disposal breeder for a delusional prince who believed himself to be the one to save this World from the Darkness to come. What did you do at Harrenhal while your betrothed was there? Drink, compete and whore every chance you got while never once properly interacting with her. What a promising husband to be for a girl as feisty as Lyanna Stark. Same goes with your ferocious wife of yours."

Misery radiated off the king's form, making Vanitas smirk ever wider.

Much of what he said was indeed legitimate, but not everything was brought to light. There were more details in the story, but he wasn't going to reveal them all. Especially the more juicer ones.

Besides, the fat Baratheon was still clueless to the World Order, making a whole many things fly over his head if it was ever told to him. And having to explain it all would just annoy the Keybearer and ruin this moment.

"Y-Y-You…" Robert's heart clenched tightly as his eyes glistened with tears threatening to spill out from them.

Vanitas openly guffawed upon seeing this.

"Oh my god, I should have brought a camera for this." He said, laughing maniacally now. "Ventus never even reacted like this when I screwed with him. Oh MAN, I love Westeros. So many people to fuck with and so many different reactions I can get. This right here is gonna be tough to beat."

He then walked around the bed, parading before an imaginary audience.

"I just made the King of Westeros cry Ladies and Gentlemen." Vanitas proclaimed. "Mark down the date on your calendar folks."

Robert, meanwhile, slumped into his bed as the tears began cascading down his face.

Was Vanitas truly speaking about what had actually happened? Was his Rebellion built on a lie?

He couldn't deny that after the deaths of Ned's father and brother on top of the demands for their heads was enough of a provocation but the inciting incident of Lyanna's "kidnapping".

Was all that war and death really based on nothing but a misunderstanding?

A lie? All because of his very actions?

Smirking to himself, Vanitas released the spells he had put up around the room and on the men outside. After all, he wanted a little audience with what he's about to do.

Summoning his signature weapon into his hand, Vanitas raised and aimed the Void Gear Keyblade directly at the prone Baratheon.

"Well, I've had my fun but unfortunately all good things must come to an end." Vanitas declared, getting into his usual battle stance.

Sadness and grief was quickly replaced by utter fear. Robert's instincts swiftly began urging him to move despite the pain. Yet he was unable to.

"No no nononoNONONONO!"

His pleading cries echoed through the bedchamber and can finally be heard from outside. The three Kingsguard members -composed of Ser Barristan, Ser Arys Oakheart and Ser Preston Greenfield- were released from Vanitas' spell and quickly heard the cries for help. They rushed into the room and reeled in shocked fright upon seeing Vanitas there ready to kill the king.

"YOUR GRACE!" Exclaimed the knights, soon drawing their swords and lept at the Keybearer.

Their actions, unfortunately, were not enough as they were too late.

"Tell me, Robert… What is your truth now?" was the final question Robert heard before the helmet he was most familiar with materialized around the boys head.

With a quick thrust, Vanitas struck the weakened man in the chest. Darkness was unleashed from within, causing Robert to hotly scream in utter pain and agony. The shockwave from unlocking the king's heart sent the Kingsguard members away and crashed into any nearby furniture or the wall behind them. As they rose, they saw the glowing ethereal heart rise and disappear before his body was consumed by utter blackness.

Vanitas cackled as the Dark Corridor appeared and swallowed him up, letting him escape from the capital.

Though the mad Keyblade wielder was gone, his laughter continued to echo in the room and seemingly out into the rest of the Red Keep.

Many within the halls froze in utter fright, a cold chill running down their spines.

From the Tower of the Hand, Ned Stark had already sent out a Dusk to switch out properly intended letter for Stannis Baratheon. As he saw it disappear in a plumb of silvery-white smoke, the Northerner heard that peculiar sound in the air. His grey eyes widened in horror upon recognizing the owner of the laugh.

He shot out of his room and he heard his guards shout for him but he didn't hear them as he ran down the hall and down the steps of the tower.

He needed to make sure his daughters were safe first and foremost.

"Sound the alarm." Eddard shouted at every passing guard he saw. "Lock down the castle NOW!"

All the while, Vanitas stood atop the tallest tower in all the Red Keep and reveled in the feeling of terror and fear emanating from the castle. And for some good measure, he took a careful, precise aim towards the Sept of Baelor. Condensing some energy towards the tip of his Keyblade, he fired a shot directly towards the central bell system.

It's loud gong-like ringing was soon heard for miles on end, signaling all the death of a king.

In an instant, Vanitas was grinning maniacally at the sorrow, confusion, panic and fear coming from all of King's Landing now.

"God, this'll never get old." He said to himself, inhaling deeply as if breathing in all the negative emotions in the air.

Turning Robert into a Heartless was a fate worse than death. He wasn't getting any better and halting it through such a change -in a sense- is rather damaging.

Who knows if Robert will manifest a Nobody. If one ever did and eventually died before or after it's Heartless counterpart, then the bloated Baratheon would reform. Yet he will not be in pristine condition, only returning to the state he once was before being turned.

What the masked Keyblade wielder has done was essentially send him through a painful series of deaths.

Back in the king's bedchamber, the Kingsguard could only stare in disbelief and horror with what they just witnessed. Realization quickly dawned on them as they could hear Baelor's bells in the distance.

They had greatly failed in their task in protecting the king's life; which signaled the abrupt end to his rule.

-The Wall-

Standing near the staircase leading up to the lift, the Old Bear of House Mormont waited patiently for the return of the party beyond the Wall to return. They had to come back any minute now as the night became more prominent in the sky.

It was a little habit he developed since he joined the Watch. Seeing the return of the recruits -who were followers of the Old Gods- as they become inducted into being men of the Watch. Him congratulating them soon after as though Black runs in his veins, he's still a Mormont, who is of the North and of the First Men. It was customary, in his belief.

When he saw the riders return from the iron gate below, he was about to greet their return with a smile. Unfortunately that wasn't the case when the party came back with a pair of corpses.

A large gathering of crows converged soon after the party as they were pulling the corpses off their mounts.

"It's Othor, beyond a doubt." Said the lord commander as he got a good look at the bald one.

"The other is Jafer Flowers, my lord." Said one of the Watchmen accompanying Jon and Sam on their ceremony beyond the Wall. "Less the hand Snow's direwolf tore off."

"They were Benjen Stark's men." Said another Watchmen.

'My uncle's men?' Jon thought with a dreaded shiver down his spine. 'If he had taken me with him, I might be lying there with them.'

In a sad sense, Jon was oddly glad he didn't go with his uncle back then.

"Any sign of Benjen or the rest of his party?"

"Just these two, my lord." Said Jon. "They'd been dead for a while, I'd say."

Samwell remembered his steward duties as he had to now act as Maester Aemon's eyes; especially with the old man not present. So he decided to inspect the bodies at the moment.

When he leaned in close, Sam's eyes spotted a few things before taking a sniff and noted something in particular.

"Lord Mormont, if I may speak freely."

"Yes, Samwell?"

"How long were they gone?"

"Weeks at most, why?"

Samwell soon recalled a number of good things he remembered from his father's lessons, which greatly served now. "A fresh kill, the blood would flow. And later it would be clotted like jelly." He soon knelt down as best he could before lifting the severed arm of Jafer Flowers. "Look at the wrist. It's all crusty and dry. No maggots or worms. They've been lying in the forest for gods' knows how long and the animals haven't chewed on them; well except Ghost." The plump Tarly then waved his hands towards the dead ranger's garments. "There's bloodstains on their clothes, but there should be blood everywhere. And if they'd been dead more than a day, they'd be ripe by now. They don't even smell. They're not even rotting. "

This got quite the number of people to look at Samwell in a different light as he was able to quickly point these details out.

It was Jeor Mormont who was the first to say it.

"Samwell, you might be a coward, but you're not stupid. You'll do well under Maester Aemon's tutelage."

This got the plump Tarly to take on a little grin. Best compliment he got in quite a while, he'll take it.

"We should burn them." Jon suggested, not feeling all well having these bodies near him. He felt there was something off about them now that he thought about it.

"Snow's not wrong, my lord." Said one of the Watchmen. "Fire will do for them. The Wildling way."

Jon remembered hearing tales from his uncle Benjen about the Wildlings. Instead of giving burials like most people south of the Wall, those beyond it would burn the bodies. Jon never knew why when he was younger, but could understand now that he's older as there may be no proper way to bury the dead under all that snow.

Jeor merely shook his head 'no'. "I want Master Aemon to further examine them first before my final judgement."

He soon ordered them to get the two bodies inside so Samwell can help the old maester in his new task. And he wasn't the only one as Jon was told by Jeor to assist the pair since he didn't know what to do with Ned Stark's bastard at this time.

With some reluctance, Jon complied, despite how much he didn't want to be anywhere near these two dead bodies.

There was this mere feeling inside of him that wanted to get them as far away from him as possible. He just didn't know why.

Inside of the infirmary, Jon and Sam helped Aemon get things prepared. A great many supplies had been untouched for a number of things, given how dusty and webbed up some items were. It showed how rare the Watch had to take care of certain injuries or illnesses.

The two friends heard the shuffling of steps with chains clinking, signaling Aemon's arrival.

"This is oddly exciting for me." Said the maester. "It's been decades since I've done an autopsy. Last time was when I was training at the Citadel."

Neither new members of the Watch made a comment about it.

"I was told you had given a number of inspections already, Samwell." The maester smiled at the plump Tarly. "What were they again?"

As Samwell told Aemon every bit of detail he said in the courtyard, Jon eyed the corpses with a sense of weariness. His hand gripped on the knife tied to his side.

After hearing everything that's needed, maester Aemon gave the final say on the upcoming actions.

"Samwell, get a good fire burning. I wish to have these bodies thawed. They've been out in the cold for too long. More secrets may be revealed when the time is right. Jon, you will alert Samwell and I when they're ready."

With this command, Jon Snow had to watch over the dead.

For hours into the night, Ned Stark's bastard had to check up on the infirmary at every hour to see if they were ready. Until each occurrence, Jon had to stay at his new quarters near the Lord Commander's tower if Jeor Mormont had any tasks for him.

Unfortunately for him, it wasn't much he could really do aside from fetching him dinner and having to dine with him that evening.

Not much occurred on the meal, aside from a few small conversations as the Lord Commander wanted to know more of his new "squire".

After dinner, Jon had to return to his quarters and resume his task set upon him by Maester Aemon.

In a sense, it was similar to his times on top of the Wall. But without the harsh winds and chill beating against him, Jon had to more or less fight to stay awake in his room as boredom weighed on him.

'Sam is most definitely in the library right now.' Thought Jon as he laid against his bed. He soon began guessing where the two were at this time. 'He would probably read to his heart's content throughout the night and not have any worries of dizziness in the morning. And Aemon's sleeping in his quarters after teaching Sam a whole lot today.'

Jon released a long yawn as his vision started to become blurry.

'I won't be able to sleep well later.' He thought.

His eyes seemed to grow heavy as he slowly dozed off.

Yet he quickly startled in his spot as several things occurred.

At first it was Ghost nudging against him in a frantic manner. For a brief moment he thought he needed to take his direwolf out to relieve himself. It wasn't the first time this happened in the middle of the night and Jon didn't want to clean up the mess.

Yet there was a problem with that with Jon spotting the sense of worry in his direwolf's red eyes.

The next was feeling this sense of cold, darkness. It was strange, given he only felt this on a few occasions.

It first came around when he started to assist Roxas in his Heartless slaying patrols. Other times during when he fought against them in the Deep Dives.

Nothing occurred outside of those two sets of occurrences… until now.

"Ghost, what's wrong?" He said out of concern.

Rising to his feet, Jon quickly strapped his sword and knife to his waist as Ghost kept pawing at the doorway.

His hand violently shook as he grasped the door handle. It felt so damn cold, despite the amount of layers of clothing he wore tonight.

Opening his door, Ghost took off and Jon went to follow.

He saw Ghost go to the Lord Commander's tower and waited for Jon to arrive. He soon walked past the infirmary, which he soon noticed two things in particular.

For one, the fire he had been unofficially tasked to keep on burning was snuffed out. The other was the doorway being opened.

Taking a peek inside, Jon noted something else was amiss.

"Where are the bodies?" He said to himself.

The dead just can't get up and walk out… could they?

A sense of dread welled in his chest. He needed to inform Lord Jeor about this immediately.

He quickly made his way to where Ghost awaited him. Without taking note of anything else around him, he pushed his way through the doorway before the cold feeling of darkness rose more upon entering the tower.

He then heard it. The soft scrapes of boots on stone. The sound of a latch turning from above.

It was coming from the Lord Commander's room.

Both Jon and Ghost moved faster up the stairwell. They soon saw the doorway into Jeor's quarters wide open. They soon plunged through as they were only met with darkness.

Jon remembered the fireplace had a lot of wood placed there earlier in the night. He made sure of it as per Jeor's command as it would've lasted until some hours before daybreak. Yet now it was snuffed out entirely. The only light left in the space was the star and moonlight seeping through the nearby window with the heavy drapes parted ways. It helped reveal much of the interior, especially the hallway leading up to the Old Bear's bedchambers.

Jon's eyes soon adjusted as he hairs at the back of his head stood on end. Ghost's low snarls were soon heard, making Ned Stark's bastard grip the sword handle on his side.

An instant later, the door swiftly closed.

Jon whirled around and saw a pair of piercing blue lights in the partial darkness. The same kind of eyes the dead bore in his dreams.

This had to be a dream- no, a nightmare! The White Walkers can't be real!

Whatever the case may be, he had to fight. Jon had no time to be afraid.

Ghost instantly leapt towards one of the blue eyed strangers, which caused them to tumble onto the ground. Neither man or wolf made a scream or snarl as they began to move all over. A nearby table and chair were knocked over with it's paper contents soon scattering all over. And something metallic clanged onto the floor some moments later in the scuffle.

Jon was about to draw his sword when the other quickly grabbed him at the scruff of his neck and slammed him against the wall. The bastard Northerner struggled against his opponent's unnatural strength.

It was then did he get a good look of his attacker, which made him go wide eyed.

'Othor?' Thought Jon as his gaze momentarily shifted to the man Ghost was fending off against. 'And Jafar? But they're dead!'

Jon didn't have much time to figure out how this was possible as he had to act quickly. Withdrawing the knife by his side, he started stabbing against the reanimated Ranger several times. The sound that was made was all wrong. And Othor wasn't going down at all.

Seeing his knife was useless now, Jon slammed his arms down onto the blue eyed man's own before headbutting him. He was able to get free and withdrew his longsword when he got enough space.

When Othor charged right at him with a loud growl, Jon quickly swung his sword at his stomach. His innards never came out when the cut was made. Seeing as it wasn't enough, Jon cleaved his sword at his opponent's outstretched hand before delivering a spartan kick at his center.

The bastard saw Othor falling some distance away. He then saw Ghost gnawing at Jafar's neck whilst trying to endure the repeated blows on his side by the undead man.

Jon made the attempt to assist, yet couldn't as his one leg was ensnared. Looking down, he saw the severed arm he cleaved from Othor fiercely clenching at him. The hand started crawling up his leg like some disturbing spider, making Jon freak out and try to dislodge it.

When he was able to pry it off and toss it away, he saw Othor lunging at him once more. Jon plunged his longsword through his opponent, but it wasn't enough as he was tackled hard. Jon's breath went out of him as he caught the tossed over table between his shoulder blades.

Gritting his teeth, Jon fought and pushed Othor away with all his might. He began scrambling back in an instant so he may get away.

It was at that moment did he realize something. He didn't have a weapon on him!

His knife was gods' knows where and his sword was still inside Othor, who was quickly rising to his feet.

His left hand fiddled in the dark to find something he can use at this time. Miraculously, he felt something and instantly grasped it hard.

Pulling it close, Jon saw it was a sheathed longsword. The handle was a hand a half in length and there was a white bear's head acting as the pommel.

Not bothering to know or care about it, all that mattered was him having a weapon now.

Swiftly drawing the sword from the scabbard, Jon lunged forward and with all his might cleaved through Othor's neck.

As the head tumbled onto the ground, Jon saw the body collapse a moment later as it was finally unmoving.

Breathing hard, he was trying to calm himself now when he heard the doorway to Jeor's bedchambers slam open.

"What in Seven Hells is going- Snow?!"

Jon whirled around and saw Jeor in his nightclothes and held up a burning oil lantern in his hand. He was more or less groggy from his slumber. And confusion was quickly present on his aged face.

He was about to call out to him when he heard Ghost whine. He looked over and saw his white furred direwolf lying on his side on the ground and released painful sounds from his toothy maw. The undead body of Jafar quickly rose, turned and lunged at the Lord Commander.

At that moment, Jon reached out in hopes of reaching the Old Bear in time, who tumbled back in shocked fright. His right arm was outstretched as he leapt in hopes of colliding against the undead ranger.

His eyes landed on the oil lamp and something snapped within him. He soon felt something swell inside of his chest and shoot up his arm. It hastily burned through his limb as it came shooting out a moment later.

For the briefest of moments, Jon thought it was Jeor throwing his oil lamp at the undead Jafar. But in actuality, it was something else entirely as he fell onto the floor; seeing a fireball come out of his palm and striking the undead Ranger.

The reanimated body howled as it started to quickly burn. It began thrashing about in hopes of putting itself out of the flames.

Scrambling to his feet, Jon used all his might into his leg and delivered another spartan kick against it. The burning body shattered through the nearby window and plummeted towards the courtyard below.

When that was all taken care of, Jon dropped the longsword from his hand before ending up going to Ghost's side to check up on him. He wasn't a medical expert, but saw his wolfish companion would need a lot of help in hopes of recovery.

"It's alright, Ghost. It's alright." He said, slowly petting him. "You did good, boy."

A pained, yet pleasant whine could be heard from the white furred direwolf, making Jon smile a little.

"Snow." Jon turned and saw Jeor's shocked face. "You just shot fire from your hand."

Jon's mind began to clear as his heart became more steady. He recollected what happened moments earlier before looking at his right hand.

"I… I did?"

-Vaes Dothrak-

Daenerys stood within her large, spacious tent, surrounded by her closest friends.

Closest to her was Xion whom she held her hand, squeezing it tightly as she gazed upon the Wine Merchant who had tried to poison her.

He was thoroughly beaten and had his lower half exposed to the world.

Daenerys couldn't help but be surprised by Asher being the one to administer such a beating.

When asked why he delivered such a brutal punishment, the Forrestor simply replied with-

"The North never looked to kindly upon assassination attempts through poison and treachery. Cregan Stark made sure of it."

She never would have thought a Northerner other than Jorah would defend her so readily.

Dany had always heard from Viserys of how barbaric and cruel the people of the North, the ones who contributed to ousting their family from Westeros.

Yet here she was in the company of two of these supposed "savages" with one being her sworn sword and the other capturing the man who had attempted to assassinate her.

This situation was almost as strange as the black haired teen she had as her best friend with the oversized key weapon.

"I think you guys overdid it." Xion spoke up, breaking Dany out of her thoughts.

"What? This?" Beshka rhetorically inquired, pointing her dagger up to the cut above the wine merchant's eye. "This is nothing. You should see what they do in the Free Cities."

"Never would have figured you to have the stomach to conduct such a thing, Asher." Jorah commented.

"Never would have thought you to be one who sells poachers to Tyroshi slavers." Asher retorted icily. "But then again, we all do things that we have to get by, yeah?"

Jorah held back a wince but the way he visibly clenched his jaw was easy for all to see.

At this point, Dany glared slightly at Asher.

"I understand you have a distaste towards my sworn sword but is it necessary to make every comment you have a slight towards him?"

"Perhaps. I just have a lot to make up for-for the entirety of my fellow Northerners towards him."

"...I find that rather excessive." Xion muttered out.

"Alright, knock it off, Asher." Beshka said with a dry look. "You'll have more chances later on."

Asher 'harrumphed' and turned back to the wine seller.

"I gotta ask, but were you able to learn anything?" Said the Keybearer.

"That depends." Spoke the Forrester.

"Depends on what? Doesn't... torture gets a confession out of a person?" Dany said naively.

"That's the gist of it, but not how it really goes in the end."

"When it comes to torturing, there's physical and psychological." Beska then explained. "Physical seems counterproductive at times. The torturee would merely say anything if it meant an end to the pain and the torturer wouldn't know what was true or a false confession."

"Or the torturee might enjoy it too much and one would have to deal with a whole new thing."

Both Xion and Dany were confused about what they just heard from Asher's mouth.

"What do you mean by that?" Asked Xion.

Beska was the one to answer. "Basically they get off with that activity."

Dany felt rather repulsed but Xion on the other hand…

"What do you mean by that?" She asked in confusion.

"What do you think it means?" Beshka rhetorically asked her.

Xion gave the older sellsword a quizzical look when she heard Dany clear her throat aloud.

She turned her head towards her friend and saw a light blush dusting her cheeks as she appeared to be hesitant to speak.

"Dany?"

The Targaryen Princess locked eyes with her and in that moment, she somehow managed to translate and convey just what the Basilisk was referring to.

Xion's face turned beat red and squirmed on the spot. "Ew~~~"

Beshka only laughs aloud at seeing the young dark haired girl react in such a manner.

"Hey, don't go kink shaming people. Everyone more or less has the right to them. It just depends on what specific one tickles their fancy."

"Like torturing innocent people and continuing doing so after a certain point." Xion deadpanned, face still slightly red.

Beshka shrugged. "Mistakes happen. Lots of innocent folks are caught under the blade without provocation. It's how fucked this world is."

Dany focused her attention on the battered and beaten Merchant who was slipping between consciousness and unconsciousness.

"Then why was he after me? Truthfully, I mean."

Beshka then withdrew something out of her pocket. It was somewhat torn up with burned edges.

"While Asher was chatting with our little friend here-"

"Who started singing like a bird the moment an inch went in." He said with a small smirk.

"An inch… of what? And in where?"

"A sharp, filed stick up his pisshole. If I went further as he struggled, it would've-"

"Okay, I don't wanna know any further." Xion said quickly.

"Can you resume, Beskha?" Jorah asked politely, no doubt wanting to get back to the matter at hand.

The female sellsword nodded before eying the Targaryen. "While Asher did that, I found this letter in his stall with the orders for your death with a reward on a legitimate, confirmed kill. It helps work with his testimony. Of course it doesn't confirm who gave the assassination order."

"I can already think of one person." Jorah said vaguely.

The Targaryen Princess looked to the former Bear Lord who gazed back at her.

"Robert never could let go of his undying hatred towards your family Khaleesi." Jorah stated. "Rhaegar kidnapping his betrothed invoked an unrelenting fury within him that lives to this day it seems."

"Says here that should anyone kill the last remaining "Dragonspawn" that he would reward them with whatever boon and lordship they would desire." Asher spoke up, discerning a few details from the burnt note he had in his hand.

Dany had to laugh at the odd sense of irony.

The Usurper offered lordship to anyone who killed her and her brother. If that was the case then Drogo -apparently by right- got a lordship if word of how Viserys died would ever reach the Baratheon's ears.

Possibly an entire kingdom if he were to hear just how her husband killed her brother.

"Gotta ask, but what will they do to him?" Xion asked, a sense of slight pity coming upon her as the merchant moaned lowl in pain.

Seeing the line of sight towards the wineseller, Jorah gave the response.

"When the khalasar rides, he'll no doubt be leashed to a saddle and forced to run behind the horses for as long as he can."

"And when he falls?"

Jorah cringed a little as he recalled a memory. "I saw a man last nine miles once."

"I bet it wasn't pretty at all." Said Asher. "Exhaustion getting to 'em, slipping and falling, being dragged until they were nothing but ripped up skin and bones."

The Mormont gave the hesitant nod as his fellow Northerner was more or less correct with what he witnessed.

"Punishment aside," said No. i, "we still need to consider the fact Dany's life is still in danger."

Jorah nodded in agreement. "This prisoner was the first. He won't be the last."

Dany gritted her teeth. "I thought he'd leave me alone now that Viserys is gone."

The Mormont shook his head. "That doesn't matter to King Robert. You are a Targaryen, your son is a Targaryen, one who has 40,000 bloodriders at his back. In the eyes of Robert, you are far too dangerous to be kept alive."

"I figure if you head off to Asshai, his agents will follow you there." Said Beskha. "If you sailed, hid at Sothoryos and miraculously survived it's horrors, his spies could report to him and wait for your eventual death there."

"Why would anyone want to travel so far as to kill our Khaleesi?" Irri asked in bewildered fright.

"Men and women will do stupid and suicidal things for power." Asher pointed out. "What King Robert had offered was a "whatever you want" gift for the death of the last Targaryens."

"A desperate demand for a man desperate to keep his power." Xion surmised.

"More like an unhinged anger clinging on to a purpose that died twenty years ago." Jorah amended.

It was at this passing comment did Xion wonder if the best place for Dany to be off this World and placed on another. It would most certainly work as there would be no way, shape or form for Robert Baratheon to send assassins to a place beyond his literal reach.

Maybe she should take Daenerys as far as she possibly could away from this demented World. All that seemed to be here were power hungry fools, death around every corner, war, disease and basically every horrible thing that one could imagine to happen.

Made her wish she could've gotten Dany away from this mess far sooner than later.

Dany looked downward as her eyes seemed distant. Her one hand graced over her baby pump while the other clenched into a fist.

"I won't give him the satisfaction of having my life and my child's life snuffed out."

"He won't have either, Dany." Xion said with conviction.

The exiled Targaryen smiled at her friend when she heard the entrance flap to the tent was opened up for a dozen bloodriders to walk in with torches in hand.

Last of all came Khal Drogo himself where instant relief was seen upon his face once his eyes landed upon his safe wife.

'Took him long enough.' Thought the Nobody. 'Wonder where he's been all this time.'

It wouldn't be until later will Xion and the others learn of what happened to him beyond Vaes Dothrak's borders.

For hours he had been fighting a litany of Heartless with his Valyrian steel arakh all the while hunting down a white-furred lion he spotted. He wanted it in two ways: it's meat and it's pelt. The first was due to him never feasting on it's flesh before and wanted to share it with his wife and riders. The second was for it to be properly skinned and given to his moon and stars as a rather nice cloak.

Since he saw that his pregnant wife was safe, Drogo slowly turned his head towards the strung up merchant, his aura radiating a menacing killer intent.

The man winced and squirmed, practically wetting himself from being so close to the imposing Khal.

Wordlessly, he held out his hand for a torch to be given to him which Rakharo provided.

Once in hand, many assumed he would place the fire upon the merchant's face. Seeing some cuts on the flesh, noting they were mixed from natural breaks to ones made by a blade.

Whereas he would go through on the sacred law of a drawn blade being used. Drogo would let this act slide as it was for punishment's sake towards the man who sought to kill the mother of his child.

Drogo marched straight over to his wife, tossing the torch into the central fireplace.

"Moon of my life." Drogo said in a shaken voice. "Are you alright?"

Dany only smiled up at him and shook her head, seeing him visibly sag in relief, placing a loving kiss upon her forehead.

He soon looked towards Xion and gave her a curt nod. "Xion," he said, "I heard what you did. Choose whatever horse you desire and it's yours."

Xion blinked upon hearing this, seeing him step up and place a hand upon her shoulder, akin to that of a warrior's respect.

"My gift for you. For being there for the Moon of my Life."

"She was my friend first." Xion told him with a fierce look though she had a small smirk in play, one that the Khal returned as he patted her shoulder one more time.

Drogo then eyed the two sellswords. The pair were a little uncomfortable being in his presence. Not that he fully minded as they knew to more or less fear him.

"I owe you both as well." Drogo declared. "Your intervention made sure that wretch would have nowhere to run to. He shall be punished accordingly. And I shall repay the debt I now owe you both."

"Horses as well?" Said Asher, who soon held up his hands defensively as he thought he sounded offensive. "Not that we mind at all. Our last ones died not far from the borders of this city due to these odd dark creatures lurking about."

"Oi." Beshka lightly bonked the side of her friends' head. "Don't push your luck little brother, this is Khal Drogo we're dealing with."

The mighty Khal heartly chuckled. "Your pick of the horses as well. My gifts to you." He then turned back to his wife and knelt down, gently placing his hands on Dany's pregnant belly. "And to you, my son, the stallion who will mount the world, I will gift you the iron chair."

Drogo rounded about to face the rest of his Khalasar. "The same Iron Chair that my son's grandfather sat upon. I will gift him not one but Seven Kingdoms. I, Drogo, will do this."

He began walking around the fireplace, thumping his chest with a ferocity few could match.

"I will take my Khalasar west to where the world ends. And ride wooden horses across the black salt water as no Khal has done before. I will kill the men in iron suits and tear down their stone houses."

As Drogo went on, Dany watched on with growing excitement and anticipation.

For what felt like forever, Dany felt extremely happy on the prospect of what will finally happen now. Her husband finally helping her bring her home. Not just that, but giving back her family's inheritance.

Yet her happy feelings quickly came crashing down with what her husband said next.

"This, I vow. I, Drogo, son of Bharbo. I swear on the Mother of Mountains as the stars look down in witness. I will rape their women, take their children as slaves and bring their broken gods back to Vaes Dothrak."

Xion, Jorah, Asher and Beshka stood on the sidelines with their eyes wide and faces conveying nervousness and disgust at just what Drogo was promising.

Subconsciously, they looked towards Dany and saw her reaction.

The Targaryen had stepped back in horror as her fair, lightly tanned skin paled considerably. Her breath was lodged in her throat as she couldn't believe what she was hearing. Reasonably so as she never thought beforehand of the ramifications of having her husband and his khalasar come to Westeros. Especially with what happened earlier today.

'Oh gods, what have I done?' Was the Targaryen's thought.

"Oh fuck me." Asher said in a voice only those closest to him could hear. "What have we gotten ourselves into?"

"We… we can't let him do this." Jorah said, throat dry.

"I don't know if we can now." Xion spoke, tone laced in dread.

"Can't you stop him?" Dany asked nervously.

"Live or die, it won't hurt not trying."

-End Chapter-

AN:

This was quite the interesting chapter to work on. Yes the usual happened here, but had decided to include and change things up accordingly.

First off, I'm sorry if I had disappointed a number of you with how I did the romance in the last chapter. Yes, romance is a hard element for me to work with, but what I wrote is what had come to mind and thought it was fine at the time. Hope I can make things better throughout the story to amend this issue.

Now with this chapter...

As you all have noticed, Littlefinger being incarcerated. You thought I wouldn't go through with it, huh? Well I most certainly wanted to do that for quite some time. Though I do have further plans with Baelish, but won't spoil them here.

Next is the introduction to two of my favorite characters from the Telltale tie in game, Asher Forrester and Beskha. Needed to bring them in at some point, so thought why not now. Both will help change Dany's perception of later story events alongside her present group members.

Jon at the Wall… I can't be the only one who thought doing the cutaway bit between episodes 7 and 8 on the show felt choppy at best given Jon and the others finding the wights after the oath ceremony, only to not see them again until later in the next episode. Felt natural to include the "Wall" events of both episodes in one chapter.

Lastly, stuff at Kings Landing…

Yes a lot of people hoped on having Robert surviving the attack at the Kingswood and not dying. Well obviously that's not exactly how that's gonna go. Along with the fact of greatly changing later events with Robert's last actions, due with FMW and I changing things up a whole lot more once Book/Season 1 events are over with.

FMW: So yeah, as Jeb just said, many, many changes so to speak in this chapter both little and big (Littlefinger pun intended). Basically, we're now starting our fast track towards the finale of season one and I can only tell ya, it's gonna be a doozy. It's crazy to think that what Jeb and I have done in many of our collaborative stories, even when hitting big moments, still feels like we're only just now setting things up for things to come into play for later events. Honestly, writing that Vanitas bit and the whole King's Landing scenes were my personal favorites for this chapter because insanity is gonna follow in the coming chapters. Bet you guys didn't see that coming with Myrcella, did ya? It was Jeb's idea and when I got to it, even I was shocked. I actually hadn't considered that possibility but when one thinks about what we have planned out, it was only natural. So really, even though Season one is nearing its end, what's to come is just building in anticipation.

Anyways, be sure to review this story guys! Would like the criticisms. Please and thank you!

R&R