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.

41. The North Remembers

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 41: The North Remembers

The red moon's light bleeds across the dark skies of Dragonstone like a wound. Joining it was the moon the world had known for generations as its white light seemed miniscule to its neighboring one.

It was nearly quiet and eerie; the only sounds majorly heard were the subtle autumn wind and rocking waves. And with the clear night sky above, the light nearly shined and revealed much of the grim land in a foreboding manner. But more specifically the castle.

Dragon architecture can be found throughout the entire castle fortress, such as small dragons framing gates and dragon claws holding torches on the high and strong defensible walls. A pair of great wings cover the armory and smithy, and dragon tails form archways and staircases. The citadel of Dragonstone is wrought all of black stone. Doors can be set in the mouths of stone dragons. Instead of merlons, gargoyles and grotesques serve as brooding crenellations along the three curtain walls. There were other designs such as basilisks, cockatrices, demons, griffins, hellhounds, manticores, wyverns and other creatures of Old Valyria. There were many towers and other locations that held other dragon-styled work such as the Great Hall to Aegon's Garden, which has been heavily unmaintained for a while now.

In the olden days, Dragonstone was the westernmost outpost of the Great Freehold of Valyria. It was at the height of its power when the Targaryens first settled there with the Velaryons and Celtigars taking up the neighboring islands of Driftmark and Claw Isle respectively. No one knew at the time why they packed up and left their homeland and moved to what was -considered to the other Valyrians- a backwater continent with seven kings squabbling over borders and minor glories with stagnant progression. But twelve years later, the three Valyrian families were the only well-known survivors of the illustrious empire when it succumbed to the Doom.

Dragonstone itself was and is -for all intents and purposes- nothing. It had no gold or gems to lure Valyrian nobility. All it has is rock, mostly a shiny and glossy black stone too brittle for war and too sharp for building, which the Valyrians called it Dragonglass while everyone called it useless. What many didn't know was that this was all deposits from the dormant volcano which also makes the air smell of sulfur and brimstone. The islanders heavily rely on the fishermen to provide sustenance with farming a bleak prospect in most areas of the island.

Outside of the island's lack of proper resources, it was originally an outpost to keep an eye on the Westerosi. But the Targaryens managed to properly convert it into a small castle fortress. Simpletons claim they used ancient Valyrian sorcery while forgetting the factor the Targaryen brought a small army with them from Essos. Not to mention they had dragons to help make the castle into something unlike any other in Westeros.

The island has a great strategic point as it held access to Blackwater Bay at its mouth, where it soon met the Crownlands which back then was heavily disputed by the Reach, the Stormlands and the Iron Islands. And with their respective capitals so far away, it gave Aegon and his sister-wives plenty of space to make the Aegonfort, which would later become Kings Landing.

It was here -at Dragonstone- where Aegon the Conqueror was first crowned by his sister-wife before they began their conquest. It is here that after the Targaryens won six of the seven kingdoms of Westeros did this become the prestigious seat of the Heir to the Iron Throne.

Once Robert Baratheon was crowned king, he had his younger brother Stannis take hold of the land. One would believe it was a royal pedigree, given Stannis was essentially Robert's heir at the time before he had his children. Not to mention needing a man's strength to rule the island while Renly was but a child at the time. However, when looking past all that, it was merely a punishment.

At the end of the Rebellion, Robert tasked his brother to acquire the pregnant Queen Rhaella Targaryen and her son Viserys so they could figure out what to do with them while keeping the remaining Targaryen loyalists on a leash. Unfortunately, Stannis failed with his task when Rhaella died at childbirth while her infant daughter and child son were spirited away by Ser Willem Darry during one of the harshest storms Westeros had ever seen. Unjustly based on the circumstances, Robert blindly blamed Stannis and stripped him of their family's castle of Storm's End and bequeathed it to their younger brother Renly whilst saddling Dragonstone to him.

Focusing back on the present, a series of hurried steps went across the sandy shores. The originator held a lit torch to help guide their way to a certain part of Dragonstone. This person wore thick robes with a chain hanging around his neck.

This was the Maester of Dragonstone, Cressen, who was presently in a state of stress and duress. Air was barely in his lungs as he ran as fast as he could. His hip wasn't helping after a tumble down the stairs some years back, but the maester did his best to ignore the pain.

Looking in the distance at a sandy clearing, Cressen could see what was perhaps a large pyre. In truth, upon getting closer and closer by the moment, they were separate fires that had grown significantly. It ended up highlighting a more ominous sight with Dragonstone in the background. And if fully turning his head to the side, the Dragonmount.

Once close enough, the maester could see faint depictions of what was being burned. They were statues, wooden statues to be exact and he knew them. He'd seen them for years since moving from Storm's End to here at Dragonstone.

These specifically were pulled from the sept.

'By the gods, what are they doing!?' Cressen thought in alarm.

Upon getting closer, Cressen could hear a woman's voice carried in the air. "Lord of Light, come to us in our darkness. We offer you these false gods. Take them and cast your light upon us… for the night is dark and full of terrors."

"For the night is dark and full of terrors." Chorused most of the assembled audience.

It was at this point did Cressen finally make his way through the crowd as a panting mess. He came to a stop to properly catch his breath when he found himself standing between Ser Davos Seaworth and his eldest son, Matthos, who served as Stannis' scribe and squire. Some feet away was also Pylos, Maester Cressen's young replacement once he died. He normally didn't mind his presence, except for right now of him appearing to be a willing observer of this event.

He looked onward and saw a beautiful and alluring woman all in red fabrics. Her long, waterfall-like hair was the color of deep burnished copper which framed her heart-shaped face. Her slender, graceful form seemed taller than most knights. She had full breasts, a narrow waist, and pale, unblemished skin. There was an ornate choker around her neck with a ruby at its center. It seemed to glow and burn brighter within the surrounding fires and the glow of the red moon from above. It matched her unsettling red eyes which seemingly glowed ever so ominously.

"After the long summer, darkness will fall heavy on the world. The maiden star will bleed and become the moon." Spoke the woman at the center of all this with her deep yet melodic voice. "The cold breath of winter will freeze the seas and the dead shall rise in the North."

The Red Woman, the servants named this as they were afraid to speak her name, but not Maester Cressen. The Sorceress, Shadowbinder and Priestess of the Lord of Light went by the name Melisandre of Asshai.

Turning to Davos, Cressen gave a plea. "We need to stop her."

In response, Davos glanced sideways to the general location where he can see Lady Selyse of House Florent. And he can barely make out her husband, the man Davos Seaworth had sworn to serve, standing beside her.

Looking away, Davos only gave Cressen a brief response. "Not now."

Disappointed at the reply, the old maester stepped out from the crowd and spoke aloud to address them all. "All you men were named in the Light of the Seven! Is this how you treat the gods of your fathers? Are you so eager to spit on your ancestors?" Cressen gazed about and didn't know if he got proper looks from the assembled crowd if they were too ashamed or proud to look at him directly.

Steps came closer to the old maester, having him turn to see Melisandre face to face. "You smell of fear- fear and piss and old bones." She said melodically before speaking in a challenging tone. "Do you want to stop me? Then stop me."

Oh how he wished he could if he was younger, wanting to strangle her with his own hands. All he could instead was look into her eyes and fight with his will. Sadly he caved when he blinked as he couldn't last very long.

Winning the one bout, Melisandre looked away from the old maester and back towards the assembled crowd. "In the ancient books and scrolls, it's written that a warrior will draw a burning sword from the fire. One which will help bring light in the darkness. And that sword shall be Lightbringer." With this said, she stepped forward and went in front of a particular individual.

He is a large man -tall, broad-shouldered and sinewy. Dark blue eyes seemingly brightened from the surrounding fires. His head was balding, but there were still fringes of black and gray hair to make it look like a shadow of a crown. He was cleanly shaven to show his hollow cheeks and thin, pale lips. His face has a tightness to it like cured leather with a heavy brow.

"Stannis Baratheon," Melisandre addressed the man before her, "warrior of light, your sword awaits you."

The identified man moved past the Red Woman and walked towards the statue depicting the Maiden. Plunged at its heart was a sword that was coated in roaring flames. Instead of being hesitant, Stannis reached onward, grasped the handle he found in his mind's eye and pried it out of the burning statue. A burst of power was felt by many in attendance as they saw the flames seemingly dissipate but the flames still remained on the sword. Turning around and walking towards the crowd, Stannis revealed his sword to the masses, having both the fires and the red light from above to reveal much of its depictions.

It was a light greatsword in terms of length and size. The length of the blade was oddly coiled three times over before settling for a fine tip with crystalized teeth jetting from the side. Instead of being black or dark steel in color, it apparently glowed with oranges, yellows and reds as if it was pried right out of a blacksmith's forge or kiln. The guard had four points instead of the traditional two as it stretched out to encircle around the handle. The pommel was round with a hole in the middle where an odd series of chainlinks was hanging off from but nothing at its end.

This was Lightbringer… a Ḱ̷̢͖̖̖̣͖͋̾̍́͗̿̇͜e̴͔͕̮̫̱͓̮̿̈́̎͆̊̿́̌͛́̕ẙ̵̢̦̪̜̫̣͓̦̓̈͋͑͒̓͋̅̒̃̽̂̔͘͜b̴̨̢͓̳̖̮̀̓͝l̷̨̛̮̦̞͚͍̗̲̬̓̓̔̿̋̍̿͒̚͠ą̵̢̡͚̳͙̘̈d̴̟͎͕̱̮̩̟͇̔͗̆̄̕͝ẻ̶̬͙̣̘͓͂̏͆̀̃̅̕̕͝(?)

The people cheered as Stannis soon came to a stop and stood before them all. They knelt before him, swearing their fealty towards him as their king of the Seven Kingdoms, all except for Maester Cressen.

"Lord, cast your light upon us!" Chorused the audience.

The last few to kneel were Pylos, Matthos and Davos, the latter was a bit hesitant but acted out of respect for his lord and king. Of course the man said nothing and kept quiet for several reasons.

"For the night is dark and full of terrors." Melisandre said before turning towards Stannis.

Lightly placing Lightbringer into the sand, Stannis kept his hold on the handle before glancing at the Red Priestess from Asshai. "For the night is dark and full of terror."

With this said, Stannis picked up his Keyblade and walked away from the vicinity with the people standing up and following after their king back to Dragonstone. The first to do so was Lady Selyse, who was quick in her steps to catch up with her husband.

Seeing everyone else off, Cressen looked back to the burning statues of the Seven before turning towards the only other person left in the vicinity. "Davos, this woman will lead him into a war he cannot win."

"Stannis is our king. We follow where he leads, even if we don't like the path." Came the former smuggler's response.

"King." Cressen muttered. "Since Vanitas killed his brother, Stannis and every other lord wants a coronation."

"I don't serve the others. I serve Stannis." Davos said quickly.

"As do I, but loyal service means telling hard truths." Cressen motions his hand towards both the burning statues to the people heading back to Dragonstone. "He's surrounded by fools and fanatics, but he trusts you, Davos. If you tell him the truth…"

Hearing the dragged out message, the smuggler turned lord questions him. "What's the truth?"

Cressen froze, his mouth opening and closing as he tried for an answer.

Getting no response, Davos left to rejoin the others.

Left alone with the burning gods of his faith, Cressen had several thoughts flying through his mind.

When a maester donned his collar and chains, he put aside the hope of children, yet Cressen had often felt a father nonetheless. Robert, Stannis, Renly… three sons he had raised after the angry sea claimed Lord Steffon and Lady Cassana.

"Have I lived so long for this? Have I done so ill that I must watch one kill the other?" He mutters to himself, dreading what's to come.

Melisandre of Asshai was the heart of this, whose madness must not be allowed to spread beyond Dragonstone.

Reaching into his robes, Cressen withdrew and eyed a small vial of small purple gems in his hand. Such a small thing to hold the power of life and death. In the Citadel, it was called the Strangler. Dissolved in wine, it would make the muscles in a man's throat clench tighter than any fist. They said the victim's face turned as purple as the little crystal seed from which his death had grown. And this very night, Lord Stannis would feast and plan with his bannermen, his lady wife Selyse and the Red Woman, Melisandre of Asshai.

Looking at the Red Moon, Cressen knew in his heart of what must be done.

After everyone had lightly dined in the Great Hall, most of the foot soldiers went to bed. Even Lady Selyse and the Princess Shireen also joined in retiring to their bed chambers. Everyone else remained awake, more specifically the captains, lords and other vassals who swore their fealty to King Stannis Baratheon as they moved their planning to the war room of Dragonstone.

The Chamber of the Painted Table is a round room on top of the top floor of the Stone Drum, which serves as the central point of Dragonstone. Lining the walls were more carved dragon depictions, especially over the large hearth.

Within the center of this chamber is the Painted Table itself, carved in intricate detail of the entirety of Westeros through the hard survey work of Aegon, Rhaenys and Visenya and their dragons before the conquest from the Wall to Dorne. It was carved from a very large block of wood, being more than fifty feet long and roughly twenty-five feet wide at its widest point and four feet at its thinnest. Positioned near Dragonstone's spot on the map is a raised seat that allows the seater to view the entire table. It's covered by over three hundred years of varnish. And there was an interesting little bonus that once putting candles underneath the table at certain points, it lights up considerably in making it look like the entire map was on fire.

Normally there would have been some jingles and some singing from Patchface, the simple minded fool of the court of Dragonstone. Sadly, he mysteriously vanished around the time the Red Woman first appeared. The same could be said with Septon Barre, given the lack of repel against taking the statues of the Andal gods from the sept in order to have them burned.

'Perhaps his life was taken by Melisandre.' Thought Cressen as he stood among the others in attendance. 'Both of them.'

"-And I declare upon the honor of my House that my beloved brother Robert-"

"He wasn't my beloved brother." Stannis interrupts his squire, drawing focus from many in the process. "I didn't love him. He didn't love me."

"A harmless courtesy, your grace." Says Davos, seeking to appease his lord and king.

While a normal lord or lady would accept it, Stannis wasn't that sort of person. "A lie. Take it out."

Matthos uses his quill to scratch out part of what he wrote in order to include Stannis' correction. Once done, the squire continued reading aloud his king's claimance. "...that my brother Robert left no trueborn sons: the boys Joffrey and Tommen being born of incest between Cersei Lannister and her brother Jamie Lannister. By right of birth-"

"Ser Jamie Lannister, the Kingslayer." Stannis states. "Call him what he is. And despite everything, the man's still a knight."

Dipping his quill into the inkwell, Matthos makes the inclusions. "Ser Jamie Lannister, the Kingslayer. Whereas the girl Myrcella would not be a proper fit to sit on the throne-"

"Are you sure of this, your grace?"

Stannis shifted his gaze over to Adrian Celtigar, Lord of Claw Isle. "Of what exactly?"

The lesser known Valyrian descent shifted in his spot. "Well… the letters we received from Jory Cassel bore Eddard Stark's signature and seal. One of them claims that Myrcella is trueborn."

Monford Velaryon, Lord of the Tides and Master of Driftmark, agreed with his fellow lord. "Wouldn't it be prudent to-" He was silenced upon seeing a particular glare from his king and realizing he doesn't want to be interrupted again at this time.

Coughing a little, Matthos continued reading aloud his king's words. "...By right of birth and blood, I do this day lay claim to the Iron Throne of Westeros. Let all true men declare their loyalty." Once reading aloud, the squire and scribe looked towards his king. "Was that all or…?"

"That is all." Stannis states with a subtle nod before addressing everyone else in attendance. "In one of Eddard Stark's letters, he sought my backing given I had known the truth of my brother having no true born sons. Everyone else, as far as we know, was silenced on the matter before it came too late. Another -however- stated that I was to be the one to sit on the Throne. Confusion aside, I won't make the same mistake." He then eyes Matthos. "Send copies of that letter to every corner of the realm from Sunspear to the Wall. The time has come to choose. Let no man claim ignorance as an excuse."

"Your grace, the Lannisters are the true enemy." Davos says, trying to appease his king's logic. "They presently hold the throne and have certain valuable people hostage. If, for the time being, you could make peace with your brother-"

"I will not make peace with Renly while he calls himself king." The Baratheon sternly says. "The same person who stole my right to Storm's End and the lords who swore fealty to my ancestral seat. By right, they should be mine, not his."

"Well…" Davos coughed a little into his hand to get back on track. "Many have already declared for him: Mace Tyrell, Randyll Tarly-"

"Stannis does not need to bed this lord or that lord for support." Melisandre butts into the conversation. "The Lord of Light stands behind him."

Davos rolls his eyes a little. "And how many ships has the Lord of Light got in his fleet?" In his mind, there's perhaps quite the high number given he knows the R'hllor religion is rather large over in Essos. Followers of the faith need supplies in abundance for their practices. Thus there's bound to at least be a good amount of ships working for those priests and priestesses.

"He has no need for ships." The Red Woman says in a manner-of-fact tone.

Hearing this bit of response didn't appease Davos in the slightest. "I'm sure he doesn't, but we do if we're going to war. Not to mention the men, swords, shields and horses." He shifts his focus over to Stannis. "If not Renly, your grace, join forces with Dorne, the Vale or even Robb Stark."

Stannis was quiet for a moment to register Ser Davos' words. A moment later, he gave his response. "The Vale is in disarray after Baelish's machinations as they have yet to finally decide who will rule the territory. It will take time to rally them to my side while settling their present matter. And Dorne will be problematic."

"How so, your grace?" Asked Ser Axxel Florrent of Brightwater Keep.

"There is no doubt the Martells despise the Lannisters more than anyone. They seek retribution for what occurred to Princess Elia and her children. The Mountain already faced justice, but it's seventeen going on eighteen years too late. New grievances are fresh on their mind as of late, which we could work with. However, they would certainly wish to push towards my trueborn niece's claim to the throne, due to their beliefs, which I have issues towards."

Some light murmurs filled the chamber before Davos spoke the last of the list. "And Robb Stark? What of him?" Before Stannis could speak, he continued. "He holds much power in the realm at this time. With his uncle -Lord Edmure Tully- not wed and having no heir, Robb Stark would hold much sway in the Riverlands. Not to mention -from what I've heard- the North has means of combating against these Unversed and Heartless. As such, Robb Stark would be detrimental to your claimancy for the throne."

This earned some nods and additional murmurs from the other lords once hearing the Onion Knight's words. Stannis was silent and digested the bit of council. Even shifting his gaze slightly to Melisandre, who gives a brief nod.

"I'll take the advice into consideration, whereas the Vale and Dorne will be discussed later." Stannis states to his sworn knight and former smuggler. "I've always served thieves according to their desserts, as you well know, Ser Davos." The Onion Night looks away briefly, but at that moment he sees Maester Cressen put something into his goblet. "Joffrey and Renly are thieves. They'll bend the knee or I'll destroy them."

Before Davos or any other lord could argue on the matter, Maester Cressen spoke up. "I owe you an apology, my king."

A bit of curiosity mares Stannis' face alongside many. "What is it, Cressen? Speak."

"Mayhaps I've been a fool as of late. But my duty is to serve and being at the side of my lord. You have chosen the red god… over the old gods." Cressen steps forward, holding his goblet up a bit more. "May the Lord of Light watch over us all."

It took a moment for Davos to realize what Cressen planned to do once recalling the maester's earlier action. As such, he harshly whispers to him. "Don't."

Cressen ignores the warning as he steps closer to the Red Woman. "A cup of wine to honor the one true god."

Melisandre eyes the goblet for the briefest of moments before giving her response. "As you will." She reaches out, takes hold of the cup and brings it to her lips to drink a decent amount. Once done, she hands it back to the old maester. "And now you."

Cressen eyed the Red Woman, wondering what's going on exactly with her. He wasn't seeing the Strangler take any effect. However, such curiosity was soon absent from his mind as he found himself drinking from the same goblet. His hands were now shaking as the poison was quickly taking effect as opposed to the completely calm and collected red priestess.

Before long, he collapsed to the ground as his life was being snuffed out like a candle. Cressen barely made out the figures above him look on in worry and disbelief. However, whatever focus that was left before succumbing to death was entirely on Melisandre's eyes looking down on him.

"The night is dark and full of terrors, old man, but the fire burns them all away."

-Winterfell, The North-

As of late, Bran dreamed of wolves.

It was a decent change of pace after the string of nightmares he dealt with, courtesy of the mangy three-eyed raven trying to forcefully make him "fly". Well more like fly on it's terms instead of another. And extended times of Namine swooping in to save him while blocking the dark bird's excessive "cawing". From there, the dreams he preferred on having were pleasant to at least chatting with Jon on some occasions.

*OOOOOOOOOOOOOO-OOOOO, AHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO*

However, those didn't seem to compare to what he was experiencing. Of how he could almost understand Rickon's Shaggydog and his own Summer were talking about like any normal person. As if they were singing in a language he had once known and somehow forgotten.

*OOOOOOOOOOOOOO-OOOOO, AHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO*

And Bran can recall a number of comments about the direwolves from the servants and staff.

"It's freedom they're calling for," declared Farlen the kennel master. "Wild things belong in the wild, not in a castle."

"They want to hunt," said Gage the cook. "A wolf smells better'n any man. Like as not, they've caught the scent o' prey."

"Wolves often howl at the moon," Maester Luwin told him. "More so now with the second moon in the sky, as if Summer and Shaggydog are greeting it in their cordial ways."

"Your wolves have more wit than your maester," Osha said. "They know truths the gray man has forgotten. Blood and fire, boy, and nothing sweet."

"Dragons," was all Old Nan said, lifting her head ans sniffing. "It be dragons, boy."

When Bran woke up that evening, once coming out of the wolf dream, he found himself sitting on his opened windowsill and doing the best wolf howl he could make into the night. His own means of contributing to the direwolves present at Winterfell.

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOO-OOOOO, AHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

It was by this point the door to his chambers was opened up, having Bran stop and turn to see Maester Luwin standing there with a lantern in hand. "Bran, those beasts make sufficient noise without your help. The hour grows late. You ought to be fast asleep."

"I'm sorry, maester. I just couldn't go back to sleep. I merely wanted to talk to Summer and Shaggydog."

Luwin sighs, placing the lantern down nearby. "All men must sleep, Bran. Even young acting wardens."

"When I sleep, I sometimes turn into a wolf." Bran comments offhandedly. "Do wolves dream?"

Cocking his head a little, Luwin decides to humor the young Stark boy. "All creatures dream, I think, yet not as men do."

"Do trees dream?"

"Trees? I… don't believe so."

"They do. They dream tree dreams, I think. After all, the old gods are in the weirwoods. So why shouldn't trees dream too?" Bran says with a whimsical look on his face.

"What brought this on?"

A saddened look replaced the whimsical one. "They… they miss their siblings, much like I do." Bran can recall the feeling Summer bore, yearning to reunite with the rest of his packmates.

This had the old maester lightly shake his head. "If you would only spend more time with the other children."

"But I don't like 'em."

"You don't have to like them, Bran. But you have to at least be courteous as the acting lord of Winterfell. They are being fostered here at your brother's request, in case you forgot."

Bran frowned at the reminder and recalled the circumstances of their presence here.

When Robb Stark reached the Twins, he had to negotiate a means on having his forces cross the infamous toll bridge. The whole Northern army needed it's passage to get to their destination quicker, thus they had to barter with the Late Walder Frey.

Bran couldn't recall all of the details on the arrangement, given he was more focused on the little issue at hand. From what the acting lord knew, one Frey boy is now Robb's squire while two of them were sent to Winterfell to be fostered for the duration of the present conflict in the realm. A means of building relations, as per custom. Both of them were called Walder Frey after their grandfather, but they were known as Big and Little Walder.

When the boys arrived from the Twins, it had been Rickon who wanted them gone first. He had screamed that he wanted mother and father, Sansa and Arya, Robb and Roxas back; not these strangers. Yet some days passed by of playing, Rickon decided he liked the Frey boys. Somewhat being thick as thieves when they plundered the kitchens, raced around the halls and trained with wooden swords.

Bran did his best to be courteous with the two Walders. Him being happy his little brother was being cheerful again after so long. Yet there was just this odd sinking feeling the two Freys were rather off, but didn't know why. As such, he kept his distance from them when possible.

Withdrawing a vial from his robes, Luwin went over to a pitcher of water and poured some into a cup nearby. "I've made you a sleeping draught, Bran. It'll give you dreamless sleep. Sweet, dreamless sleep."

"It will?"

"Oh yes." Luwin poured the vial's content into the cup and swished it around a little before handing it to the young Stark lord. "Now drink. There's a lot to be done in the morn. You'll feel better."

Bran made a face as he was handed the cup. "When do you think mother will return?"

"Last raven I received told she was at White Harbor. Thus she'll be here within the week." Luwin gave him a grandfatherly smile. "Soon she'll help you manage your roles and be with your and your brother again."

Hearing this got Bran to smile a little as he drank the cup's contents. Once satisfied in seeing this, Luwin left the acting lord's chambers before nearly bumping into the serving wildling woman.

"Pardon me."

"Maester." Osha said courteously before seeing Luwin walk off. With him down the hall, she entered Bran's chambers. "Is it the wolf dreams again?" She asked as she made her way to close the window.

While Luwin was dismissive of such talks, Osha was more believing of what Bran was speaking of.

Seeing Bran nod as he began drifting off, she spoke. "You should not fight so hard, boy. Accept what's a part of you and it'll be much easier to work with."

Bran would've listened to more if the sleeping draught didn't take effect.

*OOOOOOOOOOOOOO-OOOOO, AHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO*

Sadly Luwin's claim of the brewed concoction didn't exactly work as intended for the next thing the Stark boy knew, he found himself in another wolf dream. The smells filled his head, alive and intoxicating as he was running on four legs instead of two, benign swift and strong. He could feel the ground underfoot, the soft crackling of fallen leaves and eventually the blood in his mouth when pouncing on some forest critter and dining on it's flesh.

It was a strange experience for him to have. Something he'll no doubt talk to Jon and Namine about when he sees them next time in his other dreams.

-Morning, Kings Landing-

It's been quite a long time since Tyrion felt the sense of awe upon seeing the Red Keep.

He recalled the first time when he first moved in. It was some years after the Rebellion with Cersei and Robert having wed. After a… particular incident back in the Westerlands, his lord father suggested -more like demanded- he leave Casterly Rock to be with the rest of his immediate family.

Having his eyes upon its terrible towers for the first time back then, the dwarf felt something stir in his chest when standing in the shadows. The Keep wasn't simply grand, proud or even imposing as to the dwarf, there were more magnificent sights. Yet with his mindset back then, Tyrion knew the infamous keep housing the Iron Throne was a message, a statement. It was a testament to all the Targaryens had been for centuries before their downfall.

Presently, Tyrion was given this reminder when he viewed the Red Keep with a new perspective. Or rather, a perspective he was enjoying twice this time around.

Riding on Leviathan's back, the imp of House Lannister fought hard to not look down to the city below. A brief recollected fear from his time at the Eyrie's sky cells of all but hundreds of feet in the air with a possible chance of falling to his certain doom. Though he can imagine the wild and chaotic looks of the small folk in the city below of seeing Leviathan soar through the air. Scurrying for safety in witnessing and pointing at such a spectacle.

It wasn't long before the serpentine dragon made its way to the best possible plot of land for him and his companions to get back onto their feet.

'Of course it would be at the Dragonpit.' Tyrion thought with a chuckle. 'Don't know if it's coincidental or it was being drawn here.'

Who knows. He doesn't speak dragon in order to get a straight answer.

Upon gliding its way down, Leviathan all but laid on the dirt for its riders to dismount. Cloud and Nanaki were quick and efficient whereas Bronn merely slid off with Jojo fluttering to the ground. Tyrion, however, had some difficulty given his short stature. But at least it was far better than the first time around.

Basically sliding and falling on his ass.

There was one other person on the dragon. She slid down the scaly hide and landed on her feet with a small yelp. But she composed herself soon after.

She is young and attractive looking, roughly in her late twenties or early thirties if one were to perhaps ask. Her form is small and slender while standing slightly over five feet tall. She has small firm breasts, large dark eyes and long dark hair which compliments her fair skin. Her quick smile is both shy, insolent and wicked.

This is Shae, a camp follower. One of many refugees in the Riverlands from the present skirmishes of the Unversed and Heartless.

Tyrion first met her on the first day after arriving at the Lannister-occupied Crossroads Inn. He can thank Bronn for that by snagging her from some Lannister officer and bringing her to the dwarf for some entertainment.

There was some slight awkwardness on Tyrion's part, but he was quick on his composure.

"What do you want from me?" Asked Shae in a Lorathi accent, holding onto a thick blanket around her body.

"What do I want from you?" Tyrion questions once sipping from a cup of wine. "I want you to share my tent. I want you to pour my wine. And laugh at my jokes. Rub my legs when they're sore, after a day's ride. I want you to take no other man to bed for as long as we are together. And I want you to fuck me like it's my last night in this world." He then ushers to the sky where he and her can imagine seeing the comet turned red moon in the sky. "Which it may as well be as of late."

"And what do I get?"

"One: safety. No one will hurt you for as long as you're mine." He states upon sitting on a chair. "Two: the pleasure of my company, which I have heard is spectacular."

"Who told you this?" Shae chimes in with an amused smirk. "Women you paid?"

He ignored the jab and continued. "And three: more gold than you can spend if you lived a thousand years." he said in turn with a small smile. "Do you accept my proposal?"

She said nothing and thought about it. A moment later, she drops the blanket and unclasps the top of her dress to reveal more of her form. She all but climbed onto the chair and sat on his lap before bringing his lips towards hers.

Breaking away from the kiss, she whispers in a low tone. "Let's start with your last night in this world."

And like that, the bargain was struck.

When Tyrion insisted she come along to the capital, Cloud was… complicated on the matter as he didn't want to take more people than necessary. Yet it took Nanaki to convince him otherwise.

"That was quite the enjoyable ride." Shae breathlessly said, smiling as she was helped down. "To be able to do what the Targaryens once did."

"Don't get used to it." Said the blonde wolf.

The camp follower gave a playful pout. "Too bad."

Tyrion chuckles at this whereas Bronn snorts.

"Once again, I thank you Cloud." The Lannister then turns to the serpentine dragon. "You as well, most graceful dragon of the sea."

The dwarf could see Leviathan do the briefest of head movements before its form went up in a plethora of lights, showing its return to whence it came.

"Beats another fortnight of walking and riding." Bronn states as he and the others walk away from the Dragonpit and head towards the Red Keep. "The stories I'm gonna tell other sellswords."

"And a bit safer travel from the dangerous territory." Shae contributed as she held Jojo in her arms and caressed his black plumage, the Chocobo nestled comfortably against her.

"Though it's debatable whether or not to trade one for the other." Nanaki adds in.

"Indeed." Tyrion frowns at this. "Kings Landing is a breeding ground as of late of trouble and woe."

Taking a small whiff, Red XIII continues. "Smell could be better."

Shae sniffs as well, clearly displeased by the odor. "Like dead bodies and shit."

"It was worse when I first came here." Cloud comments.

"Oh, it most certainly was. Truly the sewers are being cleaned out will do that." Tyrion recalls from what he was previously told. "At least one issue is under wraps."

One issue out of many. Many of which Tyrion will now need to resolve.

It's been a while since they were in the capital. A lot has changed, even if he hadn't really gotten a good of it. But after what information he acquired from Roxas before his departure, there were a number of things the Lannister imp would be expecting.

'Hopefully more in a better light with what's to come.' Tyrion thought with a bit of dread creeping up on him.

After all, he knew of Roxas' plan to infiltrate the Red Keep, find the Starks and flee with a number of individuals of great interest. That if they weren't held hostage, any means of restraint when attacking the city at a later time would not be entirely difficult. Restraints and all that like events past.

There were the occasional things he'd heard here and there from the small folk. Once filtering out the stares and pointed looks towards Cloud and Nanaki, along with the surprise appearance of Leviathan some time ago, Tyrion picked up on the murmurs of what occurred at the Great Sept of Baelor.

Joffrey's coronation, Ned Stark's trial and failed execution and a grand battle were what he and no doubt the others majorly heard. Banners raising for Renly and Stannis on opposing sides were also included.

Sadly, Tyrion wouldn't really know the fallout of such specifics until reaching his destination. Better to separate the truth from murmurs.

Upon making it to the gates leading up to the Red Keep, the imp and his company were greeted by guards in service to the crown of a mixture of Baratheon, Lannister and Gold Cloaks. They were quick to notice Cloud and Tyrion, allowing them entry and more so the others once knowing they were with them.

Once inside, Tyrion made some quick arrangements for the present company of his with the palace staff. Cloud merely went elsewhere where his one accommodations were already set before heading out on his previously assigned job for Ned Stark. And Nanaki would be bunking with him for the time being as well alongside Jojo the Chocobo. Shae was escorted to Tyrion's chambers whereas Bronn was not far behind from his client.

As much as Tyrion wanted to rest from his travels, there was business he needed to settle.

Making it to the Small Council chambers, he could hear some discussions going on once he was in the Throne Room.

"-taxation."

"Taxation?" Tyrion faintly heard his niece's voice in the air. "Milking a dry utter gets you nothing but getting kicked off the milking stool. Especially with our current plights."

"Sister, spare me the peasant jokes. It's beyond me."

Tyrion hummed a little when hearing this from his darling niece of all people. 'She clearly is growing well since I've seen her last.' A curious look marred his features. 'And why is she in the Council chambers?'

No doubt he'll find out very soon.

Moments earlier…

"Onto other matters," Grandmaester Pycelle states as he ushers a man to come in with a cloth-covered cage. "A raven has arrived from the Citadel this morning, your grace." When the cloth was drawn, it revealed the bird was stark white in its plumage. "The conclave has met, considered reports from maesters all over the seven kingdoms and declared this great Summer done at last. The longest summer in living memory."

A bit of silence filled the room for this bit of information to be digested. Summer was now over and they were now transitioning into Autumn. Outside of the gods, who knows when the cusp of Winter will roll around. Around the table were a number of particular individuals with King Joffrey Baratheon seated amongst them.

The Master of Whispers shifted in his seat. "The peasants say, a long summer means an even longer winter."

Pycelle hums a little to what Varys said. "A common superstition, but somewhat accurate to my knowledge."

Looking over his documents, Littlefinger gives his small reported response. "We have enough wheat for a five-year winter. If it lasts any longer, we'll have fewer peasants."

"The city's drowning in refugees, your grace, fleeing the coming conflicts." Lord Janos Slynt of the City Watch informs his king. "We have nowhere to house them. And with winter coming, it'll only get worse."

Hearing this, Joffrey scoffs a little. "You command the City Watch, do you not, Lord Slynt?"

"I do, your grace."

"And are you not a lord at my command?"

"I owe my title… and lands to your generosity, your grace."

"Then do your job. Shut the gates to the peasants." Joffrey snaps at him. "They belong in the field, not our capital."

"In case you forgot, brother, they are the backbone to our seats of power and economy." Myrcella evenly says to the king. "Without them, we'd be without coin, let alone proper food and drink."

Joffrey scoffs. "So you say. But if that means so much to you, I'd rather go with taxation."

"Taxation?" Myrcella questioned as if scandalized. "Milking a dry utter gets you nothing but getting kicked off the milking stool. Especially with our current plights."

"Sister, spare me the peasant jokes. It's beyond me."

It was then did everyone in the council chamber heard a whistling rendition of the Rains of Castamere. It quickly drew the attention of everyone else present and towards the source of it all.

In came Tyrion Lannister as he all but strutted into the chamber. Bronn would've been not far behind but he had to stay outside for the time being in order to make the Kingsguard member outside a bit more complacent.

As he came closer, Tyrion saw the current occupants in the room. But two quickly stood out with one being a nice surprise while the other not so much. Standing behind Joffrey was the Hound, wearing a white cloak and armor of the Kingsguard of all things.

'That clearly doesn't fit well with him.' Came Tyrion's disturbed thought. 'Then again, several others are on the same boat on that approach.'

No doubt Joffrey inducted him without his consent. However, who's to say until learning the full matter?

Tyrion restrained the urge to hotly glare at a pair of individuals. All he did, however, was put up the facade to hopefully lower their guards around him.

"Nephew, your Royal Highness." Tyrion greets Joffrey with a small bow and smile. "I would've thought you'd be out there helping your loyal subjects."

Joffrey looked a bit smug as he sat in his chair. "I've been here, ruling the kingdoms."

"Of course. And what a fine job you've done."

The smug look shifted slightly into a frown. "I believe I commanded Ser Mandon Moore to not let anyone come here." Joffrey informed his uncle. "We have matters to discuss."

"Oh yes, him. He let me through once knowing I have a letter from my father, your grandfather and Hand."

Joffrey narrowed his eyes and let out a subtle growl under his breath.

Tyrion then turned and looked at Myrcella. A genuine smile marred his face. "Beloved niece. Look at you." He leans forward and kisses her cheek. "More beautiful and radiant as ever."

The smile Tyrion loved to see out of his niece appeared strained this time around. "Thank you, uncle. We heard you were dead. But I'm glad you're not." Myrcella says in turn, earning a smile from her uncle.

"Me, too, dear. Death is so boring, especially now with so much excitement in the world." The imp downplays things. He looks a bit around the chamber. "And where is my dear sister, your mother? I would love to greet her." Tyrion soon notices Myrcella's downcast reaction while Joffrey is indifferent. "My dear, what's wrong?"

There were tears threatening to spill from his sweet niece's eyes yet she managed to reign them in as she faced her uncle. "Mother… Mother is dead."

Oh… Oh… He is… feeling all sorts of conflicting emotions once hearing this bit of news.

Part of him was ecstatic to hear of her demise. She was outright cruel and despicable to him for the majority of his life. He hardly recalls any moment of Cersei being remotely nice to him. If there ever was any, they were greatly overshadowed. However, in a manner, he was sad. Not for her exact passing, but towards how it must be like towards Myrcella and Tommen. Even his brother Jamie as he and her were quite close. Though for his father, that will be hard to say at this point in time.

"I… I, um, sorry…" The elder Lannister quietly said, reaching out to grasp Myrcella's hand, a gesture that she reciprocated appreciatively. All he could do now was comfort his niece.

"Some have been grieving more than others." Joffrey said passively. "However, with me, I must move on and-"

"Surely having so recently lost your beloved father and then your mother within a span of days, you should at least have sympathies with your sister." Tyrion says evenly, yet sternly towards his nephew. Seeing as he had nothing to respond with, the imp turned to his only family member who would. "How did she-?"

"It was Vanitas at the Great Sept. She saved me from him."

"...I see."

"Where is Ser Jamie?" Asks Baelish, interrupting the one family matter at hand. "Last we heard he was still in the Riverlands leading the relief effort." A curious look marred his face. "As a matter of fact, how is it you're back already?"

"Y-Yes." Says Pycelle. "It would've taken you… another fortnight of travel."

From his seat, Varys made a lot of effort to not smile as he already figured things out.

"In that order… Sadly he's still there as we speak. Don't know of his present actions beyond that. And for my arrival, well, I'll leave it up for you to guess." Tyrion informs the council members. "Speaking of the Riverlands," the imp looked at the commander of the City Watch. "So sorry for the loss."

Lord Janos Slynt withheld the seething reaction under his breath. With the reported loss of Harrenhal, he was basically a lord in name only.

"I more or less saw the aftermath. Dreadful thing really." Tyrion made his way to the one end of the table and sat directly in front of Joffrey. "Quite the addition to my remarkable journey." He reached for the small pitcher of wine and poured himself a cup. "I… ventured to see the edge of the Wall, I slept in a sky cell and witnessed quite the trial." He includes as his eye glanced over to Baelish, who narrowed his own glance at him. "I even witnessed the coming apocalypse until the hero of Westeros saved us all." He silently enjoyed the look of venomous hatred Joffrey had at the mention of Roxas. "So many adventures." He then took a small sip of wine with a chuckle escaping his lips. "So much to be thankful for."

He would've included his interactions with two dragons, a sentient and speaking lion-wolf and seeing the return of his ancestral sword to Lannister's hands. But those would be nice conversations for another time.

"Why are you still here?" Joffrey said in an even, yet annoying tone. "If you're only here for greetings for your return, you've already done so. Deliver grandfather's letter and begone. This is the Small Council."

"Yes, it is. Though if I am here, why is your darling sister here as well?"

Varys decides to intervene a little to ease some of the tension. "Given the lack of people in this council, some spots needed to be filled." Joffrey sends a cross look towards Varys, but he wasn't fazed by the glowering. "Your niece, princess Myrcella, has taken upon herself to fill the role of Master- I mean Mistress of Laws."

"Really?" A pleased look came upon Tyrion's face in response which earned one in turn from his niece.

"I would've taken on the role of Mistress of Ships as well, but it would've been too much at this time."

"Smart."

Joffrey, however, scoffs. "I would have a better choice for her and the position."

"I would think otherwise." Tyrion says back with a smirk.

"And why would you say that?" Varys inquired, a grin threatening to split his face but was hidden by one of his sleeves.

"Simply because I believe she'd be perfect at this time, until otherwise."

"You have no right to say that." Joffrey snaps from his seat. "I am the king. And my grandfather is my Hand." He makes a face as he stares more at the smug look of his uncle. "And you never answered my earlier question!"

The smirk on Tyrion's face grew as he withdrew a rolled-up parchment and handed it to Varys. Of course, he was slightly off-putting when seeing the knowing and grinning look on the spymaster's face.

"It says here that in his absence -in Lord Tywin's hand and seal- that Tyrion Lannister is to be acting Hand in his stead until he returns from-"

"OUT! ALL OF YOU OUT!" Joffrey screamed, slamming his hands down on the table.

Upon hearing the command, everyone else in the Small Council chamber left. Even Princess Myrcella as well, for the first time ever she willingly followed her brother's command. Though she did have a smile on her face which Tyrion saw and chuckled in turn.

Sadly such pleasantry had to be quickly soured.

"You," Joffrey pointed a furiously shaking finger at his uncle. "You tricked Grandfather into this. How did you do it?"

Hearing Joffrey's demand, Tyrion responded in kind. "Oh, like I've said to your uncle Jamie, if I were capable of tricking him, I'd be emperor of the world by now." Tyrion 'tsks' soon after. "You've brought this upon yourself."

The young King sneered. "I've done nothing but-"

"Oh, you've done plenty, dear nephew." Tyrion's expression was dangerous now, dropping the whimsical facade that he had been conveying. "Branding Roxas and Ned Stark traitors to the realm after having your men slay the latter's men and allies. One of them so happened to be Lewyn Martell, the uncle of Prince Doran Martell. Now the entire North and possibly Dorne is rising up against us as if the Dornish needed any more incentive to do so. Even dismissing Ser Barristan of all people from his service."

"He's an old man no longer fit to serve me." Joffrey spat back. "He wouldn't be capable of protecting me like how he failed to protect my father, twice!"

"He's not a miracle worker." Argued the imp. "He's not invincible as the stories depict him. These Unversed and Heartless are beyond his skill to defeat properly, much less against Vanitas of all people." Tyrion drinks more from his cup, but the taste is absent at this time and it might as well be water. "Dismissing him is an utter mistake on your part, both insulting and stupid. I wouldn't be surprised he'd be going to either the North or Dorne or possibly one of your uncles in order to see you fall."

"I would see him hanged and quartered!" The boy raged, making the imp roll his eyes at the behavior.

"And yelling would not do you any favors." Tyrion stated outright sternly. "Your actions will haunt our family for a generation, if not more."

"Like I'd really care about that." Joffrey dismisses.

'Oh, how your grandfather will think otherwise.' The imp empties the cup of its contents and placed it on the table as he resumes. "The people will view you far worse than before, from both the nobility and the small folk."

Joffrey guffawed. "Heh… the peasants? What does their opinion matter?"

"...It may be nearly twenty years since the end of the Targaryen Dynasty, yet the pains and suffering still linger from those sleeping in the gutter to the ruling Houses of the kingdoms. The reason why people accepted your father, despite his poor rulership, was he kept the peace with Jon Arryn's guidance." Tyrion then nudged the cup off the table, having it shatter on the floor. "Like that cup, you swiftly shattered it with your actions just like the Mad King did on a whim." Tyrion let that fact settle in, but it didn't seem to really affect his nephew. "How do you think people will think of you in the coming times? Hmm? War is upon our doorstep and we're already losing."

"What do you know about warfare?"

"Nothing, much like you." Tyrion rolled his eyes at the angry sneer his nephew directed at him. "I, however, know people and I know that our enemies hate each other to some degree, but nothing in comparison towards hating us. It would be outright doom for us if they decide to collaborate and see our end. As such, we're at a disadvantage with enemies to the north, east and south. Nearly surrounded on all sides."

Joffrey seethes a bit more in his seat and weighs his options on the present matter at hand. "I am the king." He says evenly, not yelling or screeching.

He was met with a cool response from his uncle. "You are king."

"You are here to…" Joffrey felt like choking with what he had to say next, trying to come off with an air of absolute authority. "You're here to advise me."

"I'm only here to advise you." Tyrion responded airily, further incensing the little shithead.

Yes, him advising his nephew while basically being the second most powerful man in the realm… politically speaking.

Joffrey appeared to be going between raging and looking as though he were about to vomit as to what he was about to ask. It was quite an amusing sight for Tyrion.

"And how would you… see this issue handled?"

Tyrion released a good hum. "I believe a good start is handing over the Starks and-"

"They are not here." Joffrey interrupted, making the imp stare at him.

"...They are not… here?" Tyrion repeated slowly, wanting to make sure he didn't mishear the boy. "And what does that mean?"

"They are gone." The young king outright admits.

This got the imp's eyes to widen. "They are gone?" Tyrion's eyes held a dangerous glint now. "How? In a puff of smoke? Spirited off into the night?"

Oh, how he wished to enact kinslaying and regicide right now. He wouldn't care if he'd be damned or getting away with it. It'll greatly save him from the headaches now more than ever.

If they still had the Starks, the conflicts against the North would more or less be over. As much as Tyrion would love to simply hand them over and let bygones be bygones, he can already imagine they would still demand other means of compensation for recompense. However, Dorne will -not might- outright demand Joffrey's head if he were to wager.

'At least Ned Stark isn't dead, as far as I know. It'll at least save us some blows from the North.' Tyrion soon scoots his chair back and climbs off it. 'As for the Stark girls, well, that's another issue entirely.'

"Where are you going?" Joffrey questions upon seeing his uncle leave.

"Working to sort out your mess."

-Beyond the Wall-

Faint sounds of thunder rumbled in the air. The faint visage of the two moons were in the sky. And the land felt colder than what Jon Snow was growing used to since residing at the Wall.

Riding on horseback through the Haunted Forest, the bastard of Winterfell was traversing through a forest with a large company of 300 fellow brothers of the Night's Watch. 200 came from Castle Black and 100 originated from a separate team that was already out sometime prior. They were all on a mission of great importance. And he can still recall how their present situation started.

There were ranger reports of wilding villages being abandoned. At night they saw fires blazing in the mountains from dusk til dawn. A captured wildling swore their tribes are uniting in some secret stronghold, to what end the gods only know.

If that wasn't concerning, Eastwatch reported they found four blue-eyed corpses. Hearing that detail made Jon nervous, even after learning the men stationed there burned the corpses before making the attempt to examine them further.

"Do you think the conflict south of the Wall is more important than ours?" Jeor questions Snow. "When dead men and worse come hunting for us in the night, do you think it matters who sits on the Iron Throne?"

Each time, Jon answered "no". He believed Roxas and the others could handle things. But it didn't mean he couldn't stop worrying.

Hearing the responses, the Lord Commander felt a bit satisfied with what he spoke of next. "Good. Because I want you and your wolf with us when we ride out beyond the Wall in the morning."

"Beyond the Wall?"

Jeor looked at the fire of his hearth. "I'll not sit meekly by and wait for the snows. I mean to find out what's happening. Thus, the Night's Watch will ride in force. Against the Wildings, the Heartless and whatever else is out there. And we will find Benjen Stark, alive or dead." He turned to face Jon. "I will command them myself. So I'll only ask you once, Lord Snow… are you a brother of the Night's Watch or a bastard boy who wants to play at war?"

It had been days since this announcement and so far the mission had been difficult. But at the very least, the company was arriving at their next destination. One where they can have some relative proper rest without feeling like being on edge as of late.

Occasionally distracting himself, Jon wondered about the present state of things back down south. All he knew before the departure from the Wall was King Robert's assassination by Vanitas. Beyond all that, he felt just unrest with constant worry of how his family is, more so with what Bran told him in his dreams. Of Robb riding south and leading a Northern army was the most prevalent.

On most nights on keeping watch, Jon honestly prayed some Heartless would pop up and attack, just so he can vent out his stress and bubbling anxiety.

Focusing on the present, the bastard of Winterfell had never thought to find a stone castle on the far side of the Wall, but Craster's Keep was scarcely worthy of the name. It was more of a large home made of wood with odd fortifications; especially around the border.

"Having a rough time of it?" Pip speaks up.

"Nothing's killed me yet."

Grenn merely scoffed at Samwell Tarly's response. "Your ass killed the sledge."

"You offered me a ride." Sam rebuked.

"I just wanted you to shut up about your damn blisters." Grenn shot back.

Jon shook his head a little as he walked past his three friends dealing with their little supply cart. He helped escort his steed to the stable alongside "Dolorous" Edd Tollett. Not far away, they could see Ghost coming in from the forest instead of the column. Jon knew his trusted direwolf did not like to travel with the column, but he would not be far off.

"I was born in a place like this." Edd comments, drawing Jon's attention. "Later, I fell on hard times and well… you know the rest."

Sam soon joined them with Glenn not far behind whereas Pip was no doubt still at the supply carts. "Are those girls?"

Yes, girls. Dozens of girls. A whole lot of them spread out in the vicinity. Hard to tell how many there were if Jon were to be honest. But by his guess, there was a large assortment of each age range by the looks of it.

"Craster's daughters." Edd informs the Tarly boy.

"I haven't seen a girl in months. Six I think." Sam remarked.

"I'd keep on not seeing them if I were you."

"What," says Glenn, "he don't like people messin' with his daughters?"

"He don't like people messin' with his wives." A look of baffled confusion was shared by the others, causing Edd to clarify. "What I've heard, he marries his daughters and they give him more daughters. And on and on it goes."

The others felt their stomachs churn, a sickening feeling being shared between them.

"...That's foul." The former Tarly heir muttered.

"It's beyond foul." Glenn agrees with Sam.

"All the other wildlings for a hundred leagues have disappeared. And yet Craster's still here." Edd soon walks away from them. "He must be doing something right."

Pondering to himself, Jon voices a query. "What happens to the boys?" This drew Glenn and Sam's attention. "He marries… his daughters," Jon shivers in disgust, "but what does he do with his sons?"

The question loomed over their heads. One which held disturbing ramifications.

Entering the central home of the vicinity, Jon saw Jeor Mormont seated by the fire as he was speaking to someone with other members of their company. "Benjen Stark said he planned to stop here on his way to the Frostfangs."

"People make all sorts of plans." Said the man seated next to the Lord Commander. "I've not seen Benjen Stark for three years. And if truth be told, I never once missed him. Always treated me like scum."

'So this is a wildling.' Jon thought. He remembered Old Nan's tales of the savage folks who drank blood from human skulls, but perhaps Craster -the owner of this place- had not heard the stories.

The wilding drank from a clay mug and had a pleasant look on his face. "Haven't had any good wine for a long time. You Southerners make good wine, I'll give you that."

"We're not southerners." Jon spoke out, drawing Craster's attention.

"Who's this little girl?" The wildling shifts in his spot to get a better look at him. "You're prettier than half my daughters." This got Jon to shift uncomfortably where he stood. "You got a nice wet twat between your legs? What's your name?"

"Jon Snow." Jon replied quickly.

"Snow, eh?" Craster sneered. "Listen to me, bastard. All you lot from south of the Wall, you're southerners. But now you're in the North, the real North."

Well, more food for thought.

"The lad meant no harm." Jeor assured the wildling.

Crastor turned to the lord commander. "I catch that pretty little bastard talking to my daughters-"

"No one will talk to your daughters, you have my word." Jeor cut him off.

…You say that now, but it's rather impossible to manage a company of about 300 men and have them try not to.

"Anyways, you bring more of that good wine with you?"

"We did." Came Jeor's response. "We passed through six villages on the way here. All six were abandoned. Where have all the wildlings gone?"

Oh yes, the common question more or less plaguing their minds since partway through their mission.

Days ago they came across Whitetree, a wildling village that was marked on some old maps Sam uncovered. Looming above the vicinity was the biggest weirwood Jon Snow had ever seen. The size did not disturb him so much as the face… the mouth especially, no simple carved slash, but a jagged hollow large enough to swallow a boar or a sheep. And residing within the space were not animal bones as they rested among the ashes.

It was an old tree, Jon felt. Powerful too.

It did little to settle his nerves with how vacant the village was, just like the earlier reports stated. The only thing that occupied it was silence and ash. The lord commander and other experienced members of the Watch knew the wildlings burned their dead, but now they wished to ask when there were still so few to question.

Jon had a sinking suspicion of why and was certain.

Like all of the others they passed, the company investigated the village in order to find clues of where the former residents went off to or anything else noteworthy. Or even a trail.

Whitetree was the fourth village they had passed and it was the same in each of them. The people were gone, vanished with whatever scat possessions and animals they may have had. None of them showed signs of having been attacked. They -and the others which followed- were simply… empty.

They were dismal places to live in Jon's opinion. Nothing was what he had expected. But after hearing tales from Roxas and taking part in the Heartless patrol, it became a dreadful thought of possible outcomes. It didn't help with him being constantly vigilant and Ghost growling on occasion as if they were being watched by something dark.

"I could tell you, but I'm thirsty."

Jeor made a mild huff but complied with the demand as he turned to one of the men of his company. "There's a barrel of dornish wine on the sled. Bring it here."

Seeing the one person take off, Craster finally responds to Jeor's request. "You want to know where they've all gone? North… to join up with Mance Rayder, your old friend."

Jon quirked a brow upon hearing this. More so when seeing Jeor's reaction. "He's no friend of mine. He broke his vows, betrayed his brothers."

"Oh, aye. But once he was just a poor black crow. And now he's King-Beyond-the-Wall."

"He's been calling himself that for years. What's he king of? A frozen lake somewhere?"

Craster didn't respond to this, only looking at the person beside Jeor. "That's a nice-looking ax. Freshly forged?" The commander knew Crastor wouldn't continue giving information until he more or less implied his new desire. He grabbed the one ax and handed it over to the wildling, who inspected it soon after. "Oh, that's some lovely steel." Once driving it into the log in front of the fire, he continued. "You want to know what Mance Rayder is doing? Gathering an army. What I hear, he's got more men than any of your southern kings."

"And where does he plan to march this army?"

"There's only one direction to go." Craster pointedly said.

The response did not settle well with Jeor, Jon or any other Night's Watch member present.

"These are bad times to be living alone in the wild." Says Jeor. "The cold winds are rising."

Crastor was rather dismissive of this. "Let them come. My roots are sunk deep." His eyes soon caught one of his wives walking past, having grabbed her arm to draw her close. "Tell the Lord Crow how content we are."

Looking at her, Jon saw she was a pretty girl. Probably around his age with long mousy brown hair. She wore thick furs, but in his mind's eye, he could tell she was thin in appearance. More details about her would've been seen if it wasn't for the present lighting.

"This is our place." Said the girl. "Our husband keeps us safe. Better to live free than die a slave."

'And how does he protect you all?' Jon inquisitively thought.

A smug look was on Craster's face. "Doesn't it make you jealous, old man, to see me with all these young wives and you with no one to warm your bed?"

Jon was rather crossed when hearing this but schooled his features. He did his best to be like the man he served under, who didn't make any visual response to the taunt. "We choose different paths." Said the commander.

"Oh, aye, and you chose the path with no one but boys on it." Craster hackles. "You'll be wanting to sleep beneath my roof, I suppose, and eat me out of pigs."

"A roof would be welcome. It's been hard riding." Jeor states. "We've brought our own food and good steel for you."

This satisfied Craster, to some degree, but it didn't seem enough. "Any man lays a hand on one of my wives, he loses the hand." He states harshly before shifting his gaze to Jon. "And I see this one staring too long, I might just gouge his eyes out."

"Your roof, your rules." Jeor says, simple and plain before he has everyone vacate the house.

Being back out in the cold, Jon made his way elsewhere so he could at least get to do whatever was needed of him. However, before he could make it far, he was grabbed and shoved into a pole courtesy of the lord commander.

Jon looked startled and bewildered, the feeling growing by the look Jeor Mormont had.

"Who am I?!" The Old Bear growled.

Jon was surprised by Jeor's action, let alone harsh inquiry. But he responded anyway. "Lord Commander Jeor Mormont."

The Lord Commander's lip twitcher, similar to a snarl. "And who are you?"

"Jon Snow."

"Who are you?" Jeor asked once more and it was then that Jon realized what Jeor was actually asking.

"...Your steward." He quietly murmured.

"You want to lead one day?" Jon gives a hesitant nod upon hearing the commander's question. "Then learn how to follow."

Once saying his peace, Jeor let go of Jon and walked off, leaving the bastard of Winterfell to digest a whole number of things.

-Territory around Harrenhal, The Riverlands-

From a large sea of tents lay an army under the blanketed night sky. One would assume it was Lannister red, signifying the Westerland contingent led by Ser Jamie Lannister. And you would be right… if it weren't mostly switched out for Northern Gray.

Summer Snow, most people have called them. After all, Robb Stark brought the North -of 20,000 men- with him. It came swiftly in undertaking the Summer.

Their forces were strong, both in numbers and prowess. The Westerlings didn't stand a chance when fortifying their defenses against the Northerners. It also didn't help that prior to the Northerners' arrival, the Heartless and Unversed struck. It was practically a three-way assault with the Northerners prevailing. Whatever remained of the Lannister forces was either forced to fall back to the Crossroads Inn to other areas in the Riverlands or become prisoners of war.

One would say it was utterly embarrassing, laughable at most. They, however, would need to remember the present state of Harrenhal was more of a foundation this time around instead of the decrepit structure it's been known for centuries.

Walking through the assortment of guards, Robb Stark made his way to a particular section of the army's encampment. His breathing was even as he sought to keep his emotions in check.

Upon coming across a string of makeshift cell-like cages that held a number of Lannister prisoners, the Warden of the North went to one cage in particular. They would've been kept in the ones in Harrenhal, but the place was deemed too unsafe for anyone to venture into anymore; let alone at this point in time.

The guards sworn to him gave their brief greetings before letting him pass and opening the door to the cage. Once walking in, Robb Stark looked upon the man of great interest to him.

"I keep expecting you to leave me in one castle or another for safekeeping." The man drawled out.

"We will in due time, Kingslayer."

Tied up at the far end of the makeshift cage was Ser Jamie Lannister. He was stripped of his armor and weapons and presently in what can be considered dirty rags with his boots. His body was tied to the tree, making any possible attempt to free himself a bit more difficult. And his handsome visage was more disheveled with hints of a beard starting to seep through.

"If I left you with one of my bannermen, your father would know within a fortnight and my men would receive a raven with a message: Release my son and you'll be rich beyond your dreams. Refuse and your House will be destroyed, root and stem."

Jamie looked at Robb rather perplexedly. "You don't trust the loyalty of the men following you into battle?"

"Oh, I trust them with my life," Robb calmly retorted, gazing intently at the Kingsguard. "Just not with yours."

"Hmm, smart boy." Says the Lannister, noticing the way Robb twitched his brow. "What's wrong? Don't like being called 'boy'? Insulted?"

It was soon after Jamie heard a deep growling. His body froze slightly before turning to the source to see Greywind, Robb's trusted direwolf companion. It had greatly grown since he last saw it back in Winterfell and it was rather unsettling, seeing it stand next to the young Stark, going past his legs now.

"You insult yourself, Kingslayer." Robb said evenly, placing a delicate hand on Greywind's neck. "You've been defeated by a boy. You're held captive by a boy. Perhaps you'll be killed by a boy. At least be glad you won't be maimed by a boy… quite yet."

Jamie did his best to control the unsettling fear as his eyes would not leave the beast's gaze.

The Lannister distracted himself, recalling what led up to his present predicament. The fight was sudden as he and his company dealt with the Unversed and Heartless. It was the first time he properly wielded Brightroar and in his opinion, it was magnificent. It was like night and day of how he dealt with the dark creatures by wielding the Valyrian blade as opposed to a castle-forged one. It was as if his combat capabilities were magnified. He felt light, sharp, focused, enhanced, one could say, in every conceivable sense.

Sadly, his state of revelry ended when the Northerners arrived in full force, adding to the complication. Jamie took down a dozen men before he came face to face against Robb Stark.

They were oddly matched. Brightroar clashing against a magical blade, which Jamie eventually learned from his captors, was crafted by Moogles… whatever the hell they were. Blow for blow was traded with each thrust, parry, swing and so forth. He swore the metals sang in the air and could be heard by everyone else as the unique music drowned out the rest.

Jamie soon realized Robb was quite the combatant, a worthy foe for him just like Roxas. And like the Keybearer, which was utterly surprising and felt so fucking unfair, the Stark boy wielded magic. It was a surprising action, catching the Kingslayer off guard which ended up costing him the fight; which in turn cost him Brightroar.

Jamie refocused back on the present when hearing the deeper growl, courtesy of the direwolf.

"Recently, Stannis Baratheon sent ravens to all the High Lords of Westeros. King Joffrey Baratheon is neither a true king nor a Baratheon. He's your bastard son." Robb said.

Looking away from the direwolf, the Lannister focused on his captor. "If that's true, Stannis is the rightful king. How convenient for him."

"My father learned the truth of you fathering Joffrey. And my brother… he remembers what you did to him by pushing him out of the window, all because he saw you with the queen."

The Northerner still wants to cut off Jamie's hand but wants to hold off on it for a later time. Even others wanted Jamie's head and delivered to the capital in order to make a statement.

In the meantime, the large direwolf growls even louder this time, making Jamie squirm in his spot. "I see. But do you have proper proof or do you want to trade gossip like a couple of fishwives?"

"I'm sending one of your cousins down to King's Landing with my peace terms."

Jamie snorts. "You think my father's going to negotiate with you? You don't know him very well."

"No," The Stark heir quietly said, before locking eyes with Jamie again. "But he will know me in due time."

The Lannister shifted in his bonds. "One victory doesn't make you a conqueror."

Robb scoffed. "Of course not. I'd need more to make it happen."

'Well, he isn't a fool, I can give him that much.' Were Jamie's thoughts. He then noticed Robb intended to leave the makeshift cell, but it appeared he still had more to say.

"Yes?" Jamie appeared to sense this. "What is it? Some more insults? More Northern charm and degradation of us Southerners? I know how you all look down upon us as much as we label you all as savages. What more do you have-"

"Out of common courtesy, I have to ask, when was the last time you spoke to your sister?"

The question blindsided the man, giving the Stark a peculiar look.

There was a strange shift in the boy's expression, one of mixed emotions Jamie couldn't properly discern.

Regardless, he found himself answering all the same.

"I last spoke to my father and sisters when they went down South. Received word from them several times from a handful of letters here and there, even by Roxas' word of mouth. It alleviated my worries, on occasion, but to not know of their present status… fills me with dread."

The Stark heir appeared conflicted, giving him a hard look laced with… was that sympathy?

Why in the Seven Hells was there sympathy? Was he insulting him?

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I asked the question first. When did you last see her?"

Wanting to play along, Jamie answers. "What, my previous answer wasn't enough? Fine. Last saw her before I confronted your father, due to him proclaiming he ordered your mother to have my brother imprisoned. Sadly it was all a… misunderstanding."

Robb bristled upon hearing this and despite himself, there was that nasty feeling of satisfaction that entered into Jamie's being, loathe as he was to feel it.

"I answered your question. Now answer mine."

He was met with silence for a few moments…

"Your sister is dead."

At that, Jamie's entire body stilled and his face visibly paled.

He felt his soul leaving his body and it felt like he was somehow in and out of his body, watching this in the first person and from above.

"Wh-what?" He croaked out.

"Word is already spread throughout the rest of the kingdoms. Speculations of what occurred at the Great Sept." Robb appeared conflicted in revealing all this despite his stony visage. "But one thing is most certain, Cersei Lannister was slain by Vanitas. From what was told, she perished protecting Princess Myrcella."

Jamie was silent, mouth slightly open and eyes wide, staring silently at Robb Stark.

The heir to Winterfell gave him a steely look mixed with pity before releasing his hold on his Direwolf.

Moving forward, Greywind got all too close for Jamie's liking. The muzzle almost graced the Lannister's face. He saw it looked rather hungry and he didn't want to end up becoming its next meal. With one loud bark, the direwolf left and went after his human companion, leaving Jamie alone.

'It's a lie.' He told himself. 'It has to be. She couldn't be…'

The grief slowly surfaced. The sinking feeling was hard to ignore. The phantom pain he felt the other day returned for confirmation.

His other half. His twin. She was gone from this world and he wasn't there for her.

-Next Day, Kings Landing-

Overlooking from the patio of Tyrion's chambers at the Tower of the Hand, Shae viewed the sea of orange roof tiles. The smell wafting in the air wasn't great but it was apparently getting better.

For years she heard tales of the Westerosi capital. Of the splendor and prestige of the rulers stationed here. The vast history it held from its beginning to the past few decades.

Suffice it to say, the camp follower voiced the first thing that crossed her mind. "I'm not impressed."

"I thought you wanted to come here."

Shae looked back to see Tyrion leaning against the entryway to the patio. Getting off of the stone bench, she walked towards him with a slight smile on her face. "I love it."

It was a little hard to tell if Shae was being sarcastic on the remark. "So you love the smell of dead bodies and shit?"

She spun a little as she walked deeper into the chambers. "And cum and garlic and rum."

"...You can smell cum from the balcony?" If so, that was absolutely disturbing.

"I love the stink. I love the noise. Cities make me want to fuck."

Okay, he can see where this is probably going. "And so did the country. But that doesn't explain why you said you weren't impressed."

Reaching the bed, Shae plops down on the mattress. "Been to a lot of places. I find cities much better than the villages." She then falls back onto the covers. "This is where I belong, even if I find the capital not what I've expected."

There was a lot she never expected in these past days. Seeing the apparent Heartless and Unversed in her very eyes. Witnessing an apparent cataclysmic event before it's prevention. Seeing and riding a bloody dragon of all things.

Of course, there was also the factor she never expected about Tyrion Lannister, her lion.

It started off the other night when the small group was more or less getting ready to head out to King's Landing. With preparations done, they needed to pass the time in their respective manners before going to bed. And by that, it was mostly playing some games in Tyrion's tent. A means to lighten the mood and to get to know each other a bit better.

Cloud didn't join them as he wanted to keep an eye out for any dark creatures lurking about along the camp borders. The offer was extended to Jamie, but he declined as he was busy with his own tasks. Nanaki, however, did much for some unique amusement. In fact, it was the first time Shae properly met the sentient beast.

After some games involving fire and knives of all things, it soon devolved into drinking games. This was mostly to help humor the imp's ego after losing in the other games.

"Is drinking all you're really good at?" Shae jests in good humor.

"I happen to be a great judge of character."

"This sounds like a boring game already."

Tyrion looked offended by Bronn's remark. "It's not. Here's how it works: I make a statement about your past. If I'm right, you drink. If I'm wrong, I drink. And no lying. I'll know if you're lying."

"And would this apply with the rest of us making such statements?" Red XIII questions, lapping up from a small bowl of arbor gold before scrunching his face and switching to another bowl of water. "Still don't understand how you humans can stand drinking fermented fruits."

"A bit of leisure, a bit to numb the pains and to help forget."

"I'd rather take fresh juice and water over your wine any day."

Things started off well for the most part of Tyrion making statements about Bronn, who drank to each one.

Of course, things took a left turn with what was said next. "And… you loved a woman many years ago, but it turned out badly so you've never let yourself love again." This drew several odd looks from the rest on hearing this random statement. "Oh wait, that's me."

However, when it came to Shae's turn, it was honestly hard for Tyrion to get anything right at all. It was even unsettling for Tyrion, Bronn and Nanaki when Shae made a threat to the imp to never talk about her parents ever again or else she'd carve out his eyes. He did apologize at least.

"My turn." Said Shae.

"Ask away." Tyrion leaned back against his seat as he bore a smile. "Try to penetrate the enigma that is me."

"Who were you in love with?"

"That's not how the game works." Tyrion said quickly.

"I don't care the way the game works."

"I believe this is mostly due to you touching sensitive topics about Shae here." Nanaki said in turn. "Payback, as it were." This got Shae to smile as she drank from her cup to show he was right.

Before Tyrion could say a thing, Bronn spoke. "Our lord here used to be married."

"Really?"/"Married?" Came Nanaki and Shae's respective responses.

Tyrion regarded the red-furred beast in bewilderment. "How did you hear that?"

"You hear lots of things playing dice with Lannister soldiers."

This didn't settle well for the imp upon hearing this. "Another night, perhaps."

Attempting to leave, Shae and Nanaki all but stopped his advances. "Not another night. This night." Says the camp follower.

"It's not a pleasant story." Tyrion lowly murmured.

It didn't help when Bronn joined in on the mix. "I'm guessin' us and the lady can tell more unpleasant stories than your lordship." His gaze shifted to Nanaki. "I wager you have plenty."

"There are hardly any pleasant tales I've experienced." Said their furry companion. "But it helps to talk about it amongst good companies who won't judge."

Seeing as the "traitorous" trio won't budge, Tyrion relents and speaks his tale. "So… I was sixteen. My brother Jamie and I were riding when we heard a scream. She ran out onto the road, clothes half torn off with two men on her heels. Jamie scared away the men easily enough, while I wrapped her in my cloak. She was too scared to send off on her own, so while Jamie hunted down the rapers I took her to the nearest inn and fed her. Her name was Tysha." Seeing him say her name brought a nice, yet somber melancholy look on his face. "She was a wheelwright's orphan. And she was hungry. Together we finished off three chickens and a flagon of wine. Impossible as it seems, there was a time when I was unaccustomed to wine. I forgot how afraid I was around girls, how I was always waiting for them to laugh at me or look away embarrassed or ask me about my tall handsome brother. I forgot about everything but Tysha. And somehow I found myself in her bed."

"For three chickens, I should hope so." Bronn said, earning a tail smack by Nanaki. "What?"

Shae and Tyrion chuckled a little with the imp resuming his tale. "It didn't last long. I didn't know what the hell I was doing. But she was good to me. She kissed me afterward and sang me a song. And by morning I was deep enough in love to ask for her hand. A few lies, a few gold coins, one drunken septon and there you have it- man and wife."

"That must've been quite the time for you."

"It was, Nanaki, for a fortnight anyway." Tyrion's demeanor had shifted dramatically. "The septon sobered up and told my father of what happened."

Bronn moved about in his seat with a look on his face. "I imagine that was the end of all that. Having it annulled and whatever."

Tyrion had on what was possibly the bitterest smile the sellsword had ever seen on a man.

"Not quite. First, my father had Jamie tell me the truth." This really drew in looks from the others in the tent. "The girl was a whore, you see. Jamie had arranged the whole thing: the road, the rapers- all of it. He thought it was time I had a woman. After my brother confessed, my father brought in my wife and gave her to his guards." What was spoken next didn't paint a pretty picture at all. It was practically horrific. "He paid her well- a silver for each man. How many whores command that kind of price? He brought me into the barracks and made me watch. By the end, she had so much silver that the coins were slipping through her fingers and rolling onto the floor. After that, I was forced to join and give her a gold coin when I was finished."

Silence blanketed the tent as various reactions were made by the end of it. Shae was disgusted and saddened. Nanaki growled a little. As for Bronn…

"I would have killed the man who did that to me."

"You should have known she was a whore." Said Shae, sympathetically, her voice cracking slightly.

"How could he have known?" Nanaki said in Tyrion's defense. "He was sixteen, desperate, in love and no doubt drunk."

"Along with a girl who was almost raped doesn't invite another man into her bed some hours later." Came Shae's counter.

"...As Nanaki and I said, I was young and stupid." Tyrion remarked, his eyes glazed and voice hollow.

Shae scoffs. "You are still young and stupid."

"Aren't we all in our own right?" Nanaki lapped from his bowl of wine before switching to the water. "We all have parental issues, as well. I at least resolved mine some time ago. Unlike you, yes?"

At this, Tyrion ended up drinking from his cup. The issues with his father would never be resolved as far as he knows and believes.

Shae came out of her musings when she heard her little lion speak up.

"Yes, well, you need to be careful." The imp's eyes raked over her form. It was tantalizing as the servant gown she wore highlighted it remarkably. He composed himself as he spoke. "No one can know you're here."

This only got Shae to roll her eyes. "No one will know."

"You can't trust anyone in King's Landing. They're all liars- good liars, bad liars, one or two great liars." The Lannister said with complete seriousness.

In the midst of this, she rolled on the bed in order to properly face him. "What about you? Cloud? Nanaki? Bronn?"

"I'm not from here. Same with them. Bronn is a slave to money. Cloud is to justice, I suppose. Nanaki, I wager towards friends. As for me," Tyrion released a dramatic sigh. "I'm a slave to the truth."

A laugh erupted from her mouth. "Truth?" She laughs a bit more. "You are the biggest little liar I have ever met."

"Why do you think I am so little?" He said with some playful frustration as he stood on the stool to easily get onto the bed. "I'm being crushed beneath the weight of all that truth." In mere moments, Tyrion was pulled onto the bed and grunted a little feeling how hard it was. "Ned Stark actually slept on this. As if the poor man didn't suffer enough." And if he was perhaps right, this was the same Jon Arryn slept in. If so, gods the two clearly enjoyed rough beds to not enjoy simple relaxations. "One of the many changes we'll have to make around here."

Shae smiled a little as they faced each other and slowly moved toward each other for a kiss.

As much as Tyrion would love to have some morning pleasure, he sadly had to forgo it and get back to work.

Leaving his chambers, the imp felt bits of exhaustion cling to him. It is not a great feeling to have in the morning, but something he'll grow used to in the coming days in cleaning up Joffrey's mess. After all, he is acting Hand of the King and the labors will be long and strenuous.

Upon making it to his office, he saw Nanaki sitting there, patiently.

"Quite the welcome surprise to see you here." Says Tyrion, drawing the beast's attention. Nanaki must've come here early so he wouldn't draw more worry from the palace staff. "Would've thought you'd still be with Cloud."

"I'm mostly acclimating. Though I'll be seeing him later."

Tyrion hummed to himself, opening the door so he and his animal companion walked in. Upon closing the door, the imp went over to the desk in the room.

At least the place was better looking than yesterday.

Work was postponed when he first arrived. A means due to an annoying situation he had to deal with. For the Tower of the Hand was ransacked, more specifically its central office. Papers were spewed about and a number of objects toppled over.

No doubt this occurred after the apparent coup as Joffrey wanted something from the previous Hand. Tyrion wouldn't know what it was, perhaps may never will.

First order of business the imp enacted was cleaning the place up. He sadly had to do it himself.

"And how are you acclimating, if I may ask?"

"The smell isn't as bad as I had once thought." Red XIII remarked as he went over to the chamber's couch and laid on it. "But that perhaps lies in the fact that Cloud and I along with friends of ours have experienced far more rancid places."

This got some of Tyrion's attention. More mystery of Cloud Strife to be unraveled.

"Oh, do tell."

Red XIII tilted his head upward as if a means of physically jogging a memory.

"There was this one swamp we once had to wade through." Nanaki shuddered and shook himself. "Urgh, the stench clung to my fur for days afterward."

A swamp? The only swamp that came to mind was the Neck. Then again, there were bound to be other swampy locations across the world.

"And why did you have to traverse through a swamp?"

"We had to cross it in our search for Sephiroth."

"Search for Sephiroth?" Tyrion parroted. "I always believed Cloud to be one of a level-headed sort but to do something that insane?"

"There was… a lot going on back then. Much of our motivation at the time revolved around tracking him down." Red XIII vaguely said. "If you wish to understand as to why, Cloud can tell you better than I."

"It'll take much to get anything out of him, I believe." The imp states as he was going over some documents. "So secretive."

"A trait you humans share."

"And you are so free of secrets?"

"I have my own fair share. It's just how the saying goes, given your people coined it." Nanaki retorted, getting Tyrion to snort.

"Fair." He conceded. "But now I am curious. Given the nature of the lives you have lived, was there anything else about this swamp escapade?"

"The main "attraction", or rather deterrent to the swamp, was its most well-known inhabitant. The great beast Zolom."

"And what, pray tell, is a Zolom?"

"A thirty-foot long, fire breathing serpent."

Tyrion snorted, wagging his finger at his new friend. "Had you told me such a tale a few months ago, I would have scoffed and stated that you likely were seeing things. Though, who I'm speaking to and now what I've seen, I'll likely believe any tall tale you tell me."

"Many tales out there stem from truth. One merely needs to comb through the fabrications to find the legitimacy."

Hearing some of these details made the Lannister believe the tale took place over in Sothoryos. After all, that region of the world was heavily unknown and far more dangerous than anywhere else out there. Dangerous beasts were reported to reside there such as wyverns to other nightmarish nasties.

If that were the case, then how was it that Cloud, Nanaki and their friends tracked Sephiroth all the way there?

"The battle was difficult as our present location gave us a clear disadvantage. The Zolom ended up dragging down Cloud at one point where he almost drowned… if it weren't for an untimely arrival."

"...One I suspect was unwelcomed by the tone you're giving."

"Through his actions, Sephiroth killed it by impaling it on a tree before fleeing the scene."

Tyrion momentarily paused upon hearing this, giving Nanaki a look.

"And why would he save you all? Don't tell me Sephiroth believed he was the only one to have Cloud's death?"

"A complicated motivation neither of us saw coming.

A knock came onto the chamber door. Not wanting to rise from his seat, breaking focus from his paperwork and present conversation, Tyrion spoke aloud. "Enter."

The door swung open and the Lannister glanced up, a genuine smile blooming on his face.

"Ah, Myrcella. Good morning." Tyrion happily greeted his niece.

"Good morning, Uncle." Myrcella said with a smile of her own, going over to where he sat and hugged him.

"You, my dear, are a pleasant sight to help start the day." Was his earnest statement.

"And I am glad to give it."

The smile Tyrion bore lessened and lessened as he gave Myrcella a look of worry. "I'm sorry we didn't speak yesterday. I would've-"

"It's alright. You needed to start your duties as acting Hand and-"

"It shouldn't give me the excuse to not attend to your concerns. You are my favorite Niece, after all." He shifts a slight smile on his face. "Don't tell Joy. She would think I am betraying her father's favoritism of me." Joy was technically his cousin, but semantics.

Myrcella laughed at that, nodding her head and holding a finger over her mouth.

"I shall endeavor to keep such grave matters private."

"Good girl." Tyrion playfully complimented. "I would like to make up for not attending to your woes, if possible. Would supper suffice?"

"Gladly."

"Now, is there a reason why you came to see me?"

Myrcella shifts in her spot a little before sitting down in front of her uncle. "With me new to the position, I'm having some… difficulty in maintaining it."

"As Mistress of Laws, I could tell. But no worries, I'm new to my position as well so we're both on equal footing. We can lean on each other for support." With this open invitation of Tyrion giving her his assistance, it was greatly appreciated. "Was there another pressing concern?"

Myrcella wrung her hands together, an anxious expression now for Tyrion to see. "I learned recently uncle Jamie was captured by the Northern army."

This was rather distressing. A number of factors rolling through his mind on how this implicates things. "Hopefully we can negotiate for his release."

"And I already believe I know what they desire. Sadly we won't be able to provide." She gives him a reminder. "People say we have Sansa and her sister locked in the Maiden Vault with their father still being kept in the Black Cells."

"Which we don't." He then asks her a passing question, given Myrcella knows more than he does at this point of the present state of the Red Keep. "What do you think the others intend to do?"

"Feed upon the gossip and fabricate upon the lies that we do. I even heard some talk of the idea of using Jeyne Poole and having her pose as Arya."

"Smart. Sadly such a detail can only go so far if they don't truly know what the younger Stark girl looks like. Admittedly, I barely recall her descriptions so part of the ruse is in good effect."

If they do plan on using the same ruse for Sansa Stark, they'll need to find a girl with similar physical traits and alter things from there. However, such factors can only go so far.

Putting such troubling issues to the side, another took its place. "Myrcella, dear, you were there when everything flew into chaos on Ned Stark's supposed day of execution. What can you tell me of that day?"

The girl's face fell, a look of pain and confusion being visible to see, making Tyrion regret asking such a matter.

He momentarily forgot that it was also the day where she saw her mother die, right in front of her eyes.

"It was as you said, Uncle. Chaos. My brother's stupidity nearly led to the death of Eddard Stark and Vanitas came in to incite further pandemonium. A great darkness swallowed us all and subsided thereafter with many people having gone missing. I remember being enveloped by darkness only for a blinding light to come a moment later and it subsided moments later." She shivered at the memory as it would haunt her greatly for the rest of her life. "Vanitas mocked me before leaving me to my woes. I was all but alone in the world now. Father is gone. Mother is gone. Tommen is with grandfather. Joffrey… Joffrey is a monster in not caring for not just the death of our parents but the safety of the people. I had hoped Uncle Jamie would've returned with you, but that isn't to be the case."

Tyrion saw fresh tears falling from her cheeks and he moved to stand atop his chair, a cloth in his hand as he wiped her face dry.

"I'm sorry, my dear." Tyrion said with a torn face, hating that he made his beloved niece relive such memories.

"Thank you, Uncle." She quietly said, taking hold of his hand and giving it an appreciative squeeze. "At least now, you are here."

"Aye, I am. And I will do whatever I have in my power to help however you wish for me to do so."

Myrcella smiled, shaking her head at that. "No need for you to go that far for me, Uncle. You being here has helped me greatly already."

Throughout this whole time, Nanaki kept quiet so he wouldn't interrupt the two humans conversing.

Upon shifting away, the princess saw the unusual addition in the Hand's office. "Oh, I didn't know you had acquired such a beast in your travels. Especially one such as this." Myrcella was curiously staring at Red XIII. "I've never seen anything like you before. What are you?"

What she didn't expect was a voice coming out of the creature's mouth. "A fascinating question." She all but jumped out of her skin out of surprise. "I am that which you see before you. Nothing more."

"I wouldn't say that, my dear friend." Said Tyrion, wearing a wide smile upon seeing his niece's reaction. "This is Nanaki, a friend of Strife, though he can be fine being called Red XIII for some reason. And Nanaki, this is my darling niece, Princess Myrcella."

"Greetings." Nanaki pleasantly said, bowing his head, his lone eye conveying amusement at the look of awe the young blond teen displayed. "Your Uncle has spoken much about you. You are as pleasant as you are kind. Your eyes, especially."

Myrcella blinked, shooting her Uncle a bemused smile before looking back at Nanaki. "My eyes, you say?"

Red XIII nodded. "Eyes are the windows to the soul, my Princess. And what I see are the eyes of one who loves and cherishes those she holds dear. A noble and wonderful quality."

A soft smile graces her features. "You flatter me."

Red XIII gave the best smile he could muster and Myrcella found herself laughing bemusement.

"I had seen so much since our journey North and returning back and to think that you are not the most shocking thing I have seen."

"I fear that it may become a recurring matter," Tyrion idly remarked. "The fantastical and abnormal shall soon become the common and normal."

"Would very much like to hear everything in detail during supper."

"And I shall entertain you."

With some matters taken care of at this time, Myrcella made to leave before she halted right when she was about to open the office door. "Oh, before I go, another matter I should inform you of, uncle." This acquired Tyrion's attention. "You're lacking a squire."

This got the imp to blink a little before realizing what she meant. "I am to be given a squire?"

"Yes. He's scheduled to arrive in the coming days."

Tyrion emanates an amused hum from his throat. He's never had a squire before in his life so this was certainly new for him. It wouldn't hurt to get some proper help these days.

"And who is it?"

"Podrick Payne. Grandfather has sent him from the Westerlands."

"Well… hopefully he'll be a far better Payne than Ser Illyn."

-Northern Encampment, Riverlands-

"You're Ser Alton Lannister?"

"I am, my lord."

Within the command tent and seated at a table with many Northerners around him, Robb Stark looked at the dirtied and beaten-up Lannister. He looked a tad better once given a bit more food and drink. Something which the Stark lord needed for what was to come.

"I offer your cousins peace if they meet my terms." Robb thus listed off his demands. "First, your family must release mine." He said, hearing much speculation of what occurred at the capital, many believe they are still held captive while others think Roxas had gotten them out. It's better safe than sorry, in case of anything. "Second, the bones of all those who came from the North must be returned so they can rest with their families, who can honor them with proper funerals."

"An honorable request, my lord." Alton replied.

"Third… Joffrey must renounce all claims to dominion of the North." Came the Stark's final demand, drawing all eyes upon him. "From this time till the end, we are a free and independent kingdom." This garnered some murmurs from some of the other present lords. "Neither Joffrey nor any of his men shall set foot in our lands again. Or else it will cost them their lives." He raised his hand in a relaxed manner while holding up a goblet. "If he disregards this command in particular, Winter will be brought onto him." To emphasize this warning, the goblet was quickly covered in crystalized ice to startle Alton Lannister before it loudly cracked and shattered moments later with the frozen metal clattering on the table right after. "By my hand, instead of a servant, like how he intended to kill my father. And the first to go will be Ser Jamie Lannister."

Alton swallowed the lump in his throat as he felt like sweating. However, he was feeling the harsh chill in the air all originating from the Stark. "Th-These a-are… my lord, these are-"

Rising from his seat, Robb spoke. "If Joffrey meets them, I'll give him peace. If not, I will litter the south with Lannister dead."

"King Joffrey is a Baratheon, my lord." Argued the Lannister.

A smirk crossed Robb's face. "Oh, is he?" It died soon after. "You'll ride at daybreak, Ser Alton." He then looked at the surrounding lords. "That will be all for tonight."

With the meeting over, several Northerners escorted Alton back to his makeshift cell. Following them were the various lords as they went to retire to their own respective parts of the Northern encampment.

"A word, my lord."

Robb looked back and saw Theon and Rodrik Forrester were still there.

"You don't have to call me "my lord" when no one's around." Robb said in turn.

"Common courtesy, really."

"Better than calling you "your grace"." Theon remarked with a taunting grin.

Robb scoffs as he recalls hearing the gossip amongst the Northerners of some lords wanting to claim him as the King of the North. A title his ancestors once held before Torrhen Stark bent the knee to Aegon the Conqueror in order to spare his people's demise.

While the title is charming and fantastical, like a boyhood dream come true, Robb felt like it would be wasted. He only won one battle so far in this campaign and yet so many are jumping over Heartless for the chance for him to be greater.

There's also the fact that his father may yet still be alive.

What kind of son would he be to be declared king when their Liege Lord lived?

"The Lannisters are going to reject your terms, you know?"

"A hopeful demand, a dream even to some. Sadly it would not come to pass with Joffrey sitting on the throne, for starters."

"Then why make it?" Rodrik queried.

"To appease the other lords. They wish this greatly." Robb soon elaborates. "The North has been belittled and overlooked for years by the Southerners. Yet many keep forgetting our land is far larger than the rest of the kingdoms combined. Every challenge that came to our borders, we expunged it with force and a showing that the North can never be conquered. My ancestors Theon and Cregan made sure of it. And as of late, we're becoming far more influential in perhaps generations. Lest those southerners are far more arrogant and foolish than initially believed, it was the North that came down with the greatest vengeance and ended the Targaryen Dynasty."

Silence filled the command tent as the Forrester and Greyjoy weighed things further.

"We could keep on fighting the Lannisters in the fields," Theon pointed out, "but we won't beat them until we take King's Landing."

"The Lannisters have more men than us. We could keep winning battles left and right, but they can replenish their numbers far faster than we ever could." Robb pointed out. "Our men might be battle-hardened but numbers are still a needed advantage."

"Things could be far faster if Roxas was here." Says Rodrik.

Robb frowned at the mention of the Keybearer, wondering just what happened to him.

Where was he? How is he? Like his brother Jon, Robb wished he was here to help alleviate some worries.

He had confidence in his prowess and fighting skills but that still didn't alleviate the concern the Heir to Winterfell held for the teen. Not to mention he was -considered to many- a significant asset, not just for his power and Keyblades but also for apparently having a bloody dragon! Something which was truly unheard of!

Regardless of such details, Robb saw Roxas as a great friend to himself, his House and to the North.

A dark part of him feared history repeating itself and Roxas having vanished entirely from Westeros but he quelled such thoughts. He couldn't think of such things at this time.

"Things could be faster if we had more ships." Said Theon, bringing Robb out of his thoughts.

"Too bad those blasted Heartless destroyed what we intended to use." Rodrik includes.

While Lord Manderly has unshakable faith and allegiance to the Starks, he does not have enough seafaring vessels to transport the entirety of the Northern army to the capital. Whatever came before of their previous numbers dwindled significantly before they even had the chance to act.

The Greyjoy of the trio soon perked up, a smug grin for both men to see. "I know where we can get some."

"Theon…" Robb slowly said.

"My father has ships and men who know how to sail them."

"Men who fought my father." Said Robb.

"Men who fought King Robert to free themselves from the yoke of the South, just like you're doing now." Theon argued. "I'm his only living son. He'll listen to me. I know he will."

Rodrik moved around so he could face the Greyjoy. "Theon, I consider you a friend after all these months of knowing you. Occasionally fighting beside you against the Heartless. So let me tell you this, your father is not going to listen."

Like all Iron Islanders, this factor has been known for generations of how stubborn they were. So it was no secret Balon Greyjoy would be difficult to convince to one's cause and beliefs that wasn't his own; especially with him perhaps still bitter of what happened at his failed rebellion.

"People say my father has 200 ships."

"People say a million rats live in the sewers of King's Landing. It pales in comparison to the untold amount of Heartless and Unversed out there."

Robb finally speaks up at this point. "I understand you don't trust Balon Greyjoy."

"I -like many of our people- don't trust him because he is not trustworthy. Much like how it is with Walder Frey, in case you forgot."

"I sadly cannot."

To properly go South, they needed to cross the Twins to save them time and travel. Robb knew his father would do whatever it took to secure the crossing. Thus it was time for him to do the same.

If he was leading the Northern army, he couldn't have other men doing the bargaining in his stead. And it was the right choice to make, but it was a difficult one.

Hearing the stories of dealing with the Late Walder Frey was one thing, but experiencing it was another. To Robb Stark, it was one he wished not to have undergone.

With Joffrey king, Walder was being extra difficult as he viewed the Northerners as rebels. A statement he made in order to appease the crown. He would outright refuse and leave them out for easy pickings. This was problematic, given the Freys are vassals of House Tully, thus they were indirectly sworn to the Starks via marriage and blood. Yet the Late Walder Frey could give two shits about honoring such ties. Instead, the Lord of the Crossing wanted to profit from Robb's present circumstances. Not just to cross the infamous toll bridge, but to add the Frey army into Robb's numbers.

Some of the negotiations were fine and good. Robb would take on Olyvar Frey as his squire. Not to mention some of Walder's kin were given fostership at Winterfell.

However, things became prickly when offers of marriage came up. In particular, his.

He knew the prospect of marrying one of the daughters of his vassal Houses would be good. Reinforcing ties and making things well for the next generation or so. However, the present circumstance no doubt makes it difficult.

Robb recalls the unique payment of House Frey. It was rather infamous throughout the kingdoms since Walder became Lord of the Crossing decades ago. Women either marry one of Lord Walder's sons, grandsons or himself to merely share his bed for the night… which ends up resulting in a plethora of bastards. He even recalls the story Roxas told him of Walder waving the entire fee of the damage done to his bridge by having him marry one of Walder's daughters or granddaughters; that was until the reveal of Roxas' betrothal to Princess Myrcella.

As it stood, Robb more or less knew the deal was two-faced from the start. If the Starks won, then Walder had ties to the victor and was related by blood to the ancient ruling House of the North. But if Robb lost, then Walder could walk away and deny involvement consequence-free.

After all, this was basically what the Late Walder Frey did at the Battle of the Trident. Waiting it out who won in the end and declared his allegiance to the winning side.

Thus, in order to find a possible good end to this flaky alliance pact, Robb had to call Lord Frey's bluff. Something which he had prepared for since leaving Winterfell.

Robb agrees with the marriage pact, however, he more or less insists his future wife -who he picked out of the large litter of girls- would travel with the Northern army. A means of working out a courtship for formality's sake instead of the hasty put-together one like many marriages in the past.

One would want to have the marriage done then and there to ensure it's genuine, resulting in putting Walder in an absolute bite. He won't flip-flop and would face consequences if he did. And if Walder refused the offer, it would truly expose his intentions and refuse proper aid to his liege lord Edmur Tully. All which could Robb then justify Walder Frey -for all intents and purposes- an oathbreaker and therefore can be relieved of The Twins by force in a way that keeps Robb's honor intact.

However, with the prospect of the courtship route, it can leave Robb openly available in a manner of speaking. Of course, it makes it difficult for the Frey army to properly follow in turn as the Stark hadn't taken Roslin Frey as his wife. And instead of having the marriage done right away as many intended, it would be settled at the end of the North's campaign in the south.

At the very least there was a slight silver lining as things are marginally well with Roslin being a nice woman. As long as he kept her happy, then the Frey army would fall in line.

"I'm not a Stark. I know that. But your father raised me to be an honorable man. We can avenge your House together." Theon told him as Robb thought for some moments.

After what felt like hours, the Stark came to a decision.

"Ride at first light and hurry. But be careful and return if things don't go well." Robb commanded as Theon nodded and left in order to begin his preparations for his journey home.

With him alone with Robb, Rodrik speaks. "This is gonna be a bad idea."

"I know, but it doesn't hurt if we don't try."

"Much like your terms for peace?"

Frustration slowly bubbles out from within the Stark. "You know as much as I do that if I traded the Kingslayer for my father and sisters, the other lords and their men would arguably string me up by my feet. Especially if the rumors are true that they are not at the capital at all or somewhere else entirely. I'd be giving up one great asset for basically nothing."

"And what of the Valyrian sword Ser Jamie possessed? The one sitting in your tent right now?"

"It's far more valuable to the Lannisters than Jamie. Another precaution, in case of anything."

The Forrester soon snorts. "It would be a great slap to their faces if you decide to gift it to the Martells for their cooperation."

This got Robb to snort as well on the prospect. Sadly Dorne will be tricky as he'd need to figure out how to negotiate an alliance with them. Such an idea would never have crossed his mind beforehand. But once hearing tales from Roxas of the Dornish rulers, it could perhaps be beneficial.

With one matter shoved aside for the time being, Rodrik can only speculate about Robb's other plans. "What can we do until then?"

The Stark's coming words would no doubt surprise the Forrester. "While Theon intends to see his father, I believe it's time you get to see your sister."

It took some moments for Rodrick to realize what Robb is suggesting. "You want me to ride south to the Stormlands."

"I want you to negotiate with Renly Baratheon." His friend and liege lord clarified. "He's rallied an army of 100,000."

"But I don't know him." Rodrik argues with base fact. "We don't know him. The North would not fight for someone like Renly, even if he shares the same name as Robert. Why not some other lord who does?"

"In these past months, your House became far more influential than anyone could've realized beforehand. Not only are you the next Lord of Ironrath, but your sister Mira is intended to become the future Lady of Highgarden. As such, you two hold much sway with the commerce of the Ironwood and its resin."

An exasperated sigh escapes Rodrik's throat. "I hate to admit that you're right. But what if Mira is not there? My voice alone would not be enough to sway Renly to our cause."

If Rodrik is successful with this mission, then victory is all but assured. They'll outnumber the Lannisters two to one, forcing their enemy to sue for peace.

"We can only hope she's there. We can only speculate that since the wedding hasn't occurred, the Tyrells will keep her close as she is still Margarey's lady-in-waiting as she's no longer a handmaiden."

Rodrik nods on the bit of understanding. "I'll ride at first light, my lord."

"What did I say about "my lord"?" Robb jests, earning a little chuckle between them. "Give lord Renly my regards."

"King Renly." Rodrik corrects him. "There's a king in almost every corner now."

-Kings Landing-

There was a lot of hustle and bustle within the streets of the capital. Not much room to walk through, given how figuratively packed it was starting to become. With more refugees flooding into the city, Cloud was essentially working over time. And without Roxas here, or any other capable fighters he can trust, Strife had to cover the entire city. At least Red XIII was present to help alleviate a few issues.

The blonde swordsman could've stayed with Nanaki in the Red Keep. Relaxing to his heart's content- pfft, no, that wasn't him at all. In fact, he'd be stir-crazy if he didn't work in some manner.

His job for Ned Stark was completed in getting Tyrion Lannister back to the capital. Sadly it was hollow, given the Warden of the North was branded a traitor; let alone him no longer present in the Red Keep. In fact, there was no other Stark within the vicinity. The closest there was to them was Jeyne Poole and Sansa's direwolf, Lady.

With his one job done and over with, Cloud could leave the capital and go anywhere at all. He was relatively free to do as he pleased. He could go northbound to meet up with the Northern army. He could go southbound to find Beric and Thoros.

Sadly, things are not meant to be. He was under the employ of Tyrion Lannister, who was willing to pay for his services for the time being.

"I wish I could leave this damned place."

"So do we, Cloud, but we're having a hard time trying to find the World you're in."

Leaning against a wall in some alleyway, Cloud was peering down on his Gummiphone and speaking with Cid Highwind.

It was good to speak to one of his friends and companions once again after all these months. This happened once reuniting with Red XIII, who had a Gummiphone on an attachment to his collar. It was a bit of insurance just in case he or any of the others sent out were able to get in contact with the blonde wolf.

From what Cloud learned from Roxas, after leaving the Crossroads Inn the first time around, the Nobody went to Radiant Garden to at least deliver a message of Cloud's whereabouts. He couldn't outright tell Cloud's friends who he was, leaving a lot of speculation in the process, but the mercenary at least appreciated the action at the time.

It was only a matter of time for Cloud to get in contact with one of the Restoration Committee members. And sure enough, after weeks of relative waiting, it happened.

"You sure about that? It's been days since I activated the Gummiphone."

Taking a drag from his cigarette, the engineer and pilot voiced his frustration. "That World you're on is playing hell with our systems. It's hard to triangulate its exact coordinates." Cid exhales a sigh. "It's a miracle you were able to at least find Nanaki by chance. Our one device sent him and the others to random locations out there."

"And what of Cait Sith, Vincent and the rest?"

"No clue where Cait and Vincent are, but the others came back and are trying to find a way to ya. Hopefully, we can narrow things out in the coming weeks."

"Hopefully soon as things are not looking so great."

This then went into Cloud elaborating on his present circumstance since they last spoke back at the Crossroads Inn. How war is essentially on the horizon on top of Organization XIII on the move, due to the actions of King Joffrey destabilizing the realms of Westeros.

He could more or less end all this by just ending Joffrey. No one would really care, let alone mind after what he's done. However, it would paint an ugly target on his back and he would be hounded for days once escaping. And with that occurring, it would be hard for him to rest until the others arrive and take him and Nanaki back home.

"So nothing exactly new after what we've gone through." Cid surmises. "Still, it's gonna be difficult with doing more otherworldly involvements."

"At some point, the rules with the World Order will have to be tossed out of the window or put into a bonfire." Cloud wryly said.

"Not gonna like it, but it's something truly hard to maintain with all of the brewing chaos. Anyways, we'll still keep in touch and keep you two informed on our progress."

With that said, Cid ended the call.

Pocketing the device, Cloud exited the alley and resumed his patrol through the capital.

Having left the port some time ago, Cloud reflected on the concerns of the port master. Given the present conflict and the war erupting in Westeros, there was quite a lack of trade coming into the city; both by ship and land.

News of what occurred somehow reached Essos and it was impacting trade on the oceanfront. Especially with most of the Royal Fleet under the command of Stannis Baratheon was mostly surrounding Dragonstone. At the moment, there wasn't a blockade, however, such trade routes were being halted as sailors were worried about crossing Stannis Baratheon. By land, much food and drink originated from the Reach. Yet with them siding with Renly Baratheon, those are pretty much severed for the time being. Dorne outright ended all trade to the capital due to their issues with the crown's actions. And the Vale was complicated at this time.

There was also news of Stannis having sent out ravens to every corner of the continent of his claims to the Iron Throne. Although Renly was declaring himself as the next king as well with the support of most of the Stormlands and the Reach. No doubt the situation became more complicated with the brothers being on opposing sides and will clash at some point.

It was only a matter of time before riots broke out within King's Landing. Just one spark will light the fuse. Question was, how long was said fuse and what would spark it?

Sometime after arriving at the Street of Silk, Cloud heard shouts and screams, prompting him to rush over. He expected to find a sudden Heartless skirmish. To his surprise, he saw several gold cloaks and Lannister soldiers suddenly entering the establishment owned by Madam M.

Rushing in, Cloud saw armored men harassing many of the workers. With that, the blonde wolf acted.

Grabbing the shoulder of one of the men, Cloud yanked him away before punching him in the head to quickly knock him out. From there, he grabbed the body and swung him around to have him and another tumble to the ground. This soon drew the attention of some of the gold cloaks and Lannister men and saw who was intervening. Seeing the man had assaulted two of their own, they went to take him out.

Cloud sidestepped away from the sword swing from the first man before kicking him in the chest and knocked him to the ground. He spun to avoid a thrust from the second man before elbowing the third in the face. The blonde wolf swiftly punched the fourth in the throat, causing him to clench it out of pain. Using the same man, Cloud grappled and threw him into the fifth who tried to rush him from behind, causing further injuries on their tumble.

Hearing the yell from the side, Cloud ducked under a swing from the second gold cloak and quickly backed up to avoid being hit. He briefly unsheathed one of his swords to block an incoming blow before pushing him away to deliver a quick jab right to the face, breaking the man's nose in the process.

The people attacking the establishment were all on the ground now as moaning messes. It was from here that Cloud all but growled out a demand. "Leave, now."

The men scrambled to their feet and fled the establishment. Upon seeing the last of them leave, Cloud turned to the matron owner who was readjusting her kimono.

"Are you and the others alright?"

"Does it look like it?" Madam M snarled. "These men suddenly barged in here and demanded to know where one of my girls was."

"Did you tell them?"

"What do you think? They weren't satisfied with my response and wanted to force my girls and I to-"

"You don't have to tell me further." Cloud made his way to the door before halting. "Close up shop for the day. Bar the doors and wait for things to blow over."

The Madam huffed, fanning herself as she walked away. "Don't have to tell me twice."

Once leaving the establishment, Cloud practically heard the door close up rather harshly. He didn't wait for it to be secured as he looked at each end of the street in order to see the Gold Cloaks and Lannister men were gone.

With them in mind, the blonde wolf wondered why they suddenly attacked the establishment.

'Madam M said they were looking for one of her girls. But why her? Why so many for one person?' This was going to plague his mind for a while. 'I'm going to hunt them down and ask.'

Along the way of leaving the Street of Silk and transitioning over to the Street of Steel, he heard various cries and yells. Cloud assumed it was the typical practices going on at the brothels and didn't exactly mind.

However, all that changed when someone called out his name.

"Lord Strife!"

Turning, Cloud saw someone hastily approach him. He vaguely recalls him being one of the workers at Tobho Mott's shop.

"What is it?"

"Come quick! They're hurting him!" The worker desperately said.

With the present issue still on his mind, Cloud quickly followed the worker.

After some minutes of running, the mercenary saw the doors to Tobho Mott's establishment were wide open. Sounds of commotion were heard from inside, but not out of typical work of a blacksmithy.

Once venturing in, Cloud eventually saw one of the gold cloaks hold Tobho Mott's head down to the pile of hot coals and ready to burn his face off.

"I'll ask again, where is the bastard?" Asked one of the other Gold Cloaks.

"He's not here!" Cried out the blacksmith.

"No shit." Another Gold Cloak snarled, brandishing a hot knife to the blacksmith's face. "Now where is the bastard?"

"I don't know!" He said again, pain evident in his voice.

"What the hell are you doing?" Cloud loudly demanded, garnering the attention of the offenders.

The Gold Cloaks saw who it was and their postures and expressions faltered at the cold fury the blond wolf exuded.

"You have five seconds," Cloud said in quiet rage. "Explain yourselves, now."

The Gold Cloak who held the burning knife looked at his men and then back at Cloud, standing tall, or as best as he could against someone of Cloud's stature and spoke with authority once knowing who the person was.

"This is of no concern to you, Strife." The man said, sneering slightly.

That wasn't the answer Cloud was looking for.

"It is now." The blond stated, stepping forward and reaching for his buster sword.

The Gold Cloaks all faltered, feeling a kind of pressure come over them as Cloud withdrew one of his blades from his back and pointed it at the Gold Cloak holding down Tobho.

"Either you let him go or you lose both arms." Strife threatened in complete, deadly seriousness.

In an instant, Tobho was released.

"Fool!" The Gold Cloak holding the heated knife yelled. "We are under direct orders from the-"

The man froze upon feeling an oversized sword -the main blade of Cloud's Fusion Sword- hovering an inch away from his neck.

"Five seconds." Cloud threatened. "Either run or lose your head, your pick."

It didn't take long for them to high tail out of there, especially after the one man felt his neck getting nicked by Cloud's weapon. He practically squealed like a pig and ran like a coward, which prompted the others to do the same.

Once seeing the last of the Gold Cloaks leave the shop and being sure they were long gone, Cloud went back inside to double check the owner of the smithy.

Seeing Strife's return, Tobho gave him a strained smile of relief. "Thank the Black Goat for your arrival."

"Tobho, what's going on?" Cloud asked straight away. "Why were they harassing-?"

"They were after Gendry."

Cloud recalled the one apprentice smith living here. He was one of Arya's friends in the capital if he recalled correctly.

"Why?" Cloud simply asked.

"He's a bastard. One of many of Robert Baratheon's." Tobho revealed, making the blond wolf blink in surprise. "I knew the day would come, but I didn't expect it to be so soon."

It was here did Cloud essentially learned from the blacksmith of what his fear and suspicion was. Joffrey's paranoia about his claim to the throne finally surfaced and ordered the deaths of Robert's bastards, for he knew they had a better claim than Joffrey and right behind Myrcella. And it was through Roxas did he order his people to spirit away many of these bastards for their safety.

Yet it was because of this one act that the Gold Cloaks and Lannister men are causing more harm in finding Robert's bastards within the capital. And right now, Cloud was essentially powerless to stop the attacks and slaughter of innocent people.

"Wherever Gendry is, I hope he and his fellow bastards are far gone and away." Tobho drank from a cup of wine to help numb the pain he received earlier. "I hope Roxas made good on his promise."

Strife spoke nothing else in response to what he heard, getting enough for what he needed to do next.

Leaving the smithy, Cloud made his way back to the Red Keep. He needed to inform Tyrion of what occurred.

The spark was finally lit. Now Cloud awaits the explosion.

-Unknown Location-

The forest was thick and felt a bit dark, even though daylight seeped through the canopy above. There was even a slight chill in the air with seeing signs of snow on the earth.

"It feels like we've been walking for hours." A young pre-teen girl complained.

"But the sun is still up." A cheerful accented voice replied in turn. "How can it be hours?"

"I don't know, it just feels like it." There was a small gruff whimper. "See? Even Nymeria agrees."

"At least we haven't run into trouble."

"That's the spirit, Gendry." Cait Sith praised, making Arya Stark roll her eyes whilst rubbing the top of her Direwolf's head.

They've practically been walking since they woke up in this unrecognizable forest. Neither of them had any knowledge as to where they distinctly were. No discernible landmarks to help navigate just yet. No human life at all to ask for directions, either. And hardly any animals other than some deer they saw ran away from them when they spotted them.

It was quite annoying.

Arya had wanted to split up but Cait shot that down quickly, believing that staying together was the smarter and safer option.

For Gendry, this was the first time he left the capital.

Living in King's Landing all his life, he's known much of its essential layout like it was the back of his hand. The ins and outs, he can name off-handedly in various details upon simple glances. Anything from within the city gates to the walls of the Red Keep, the young blacksmith was clearly fine with.

Anything beyond such boundaries, however, was outright alien to him.

Oh yes, his master Tobho taught him much throughout his life in order to prepare him for when he eventually leaves his service. His letters and numbers were essential, just so Gendry can at least know how to run a smithy of his own one day. Outside of the typical craft of the trade, the bastard needed to at least know the general locations of Westeros for various reasons.

Lessons were far different from the experience in this case. Not knowing where they generally were put Gendry and his companions in a tough spot. More so with them just waking up in the forest with no idea how they got there in the first place.

All either of them recalled was them fleeing from the Great Sept of Baelor. A wave of darkness crashed into them, having them see only a blackened void before a light wooshed in soon after. Next thing they knew, they woke up in this forest.

On and on they went. Hardly stopping as they searched for anything. Life, food, water. Nothing at all, much to the frustrations of the humans of the group.

"I think I see something up ahead." Called out Cait Sith, ushering his direwolf stead to move faster.

"Hey! Wait up!" Cried out the Stark girl with Gendry not far behind.

Reaching the end of the forestation, the light momentarily blinded them where they came across quite a sight. Within a clearing, there was a small field of flowers next to a set of ruins. It was a really pretty sight for the little group.

"Would you so happen to know what this place is, Arya?" Gendry inquired, making the Stark girl quirk a brow at the blacksmith.

"Why are you askin' me?"

"You're the noble. You'd know more locations in Westeros."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I know everything." Arya rebuked with a flat look. "I've never even left the North until coming to King's Landing. Even then, I couldn't really explore beyond the-"

"Wait, who's that?"

The little argument ended upon seeing where Cait Sith was pointing towards.

Amongst the sea of flora was a young woman as she appeared seated. From what they could see, she had long and shaggy reddish-brown hair with a black shaul hanging in the back.

At last, they at least found someone.

Walking towards this person drew their attention. Whatever action she was doing beforehand was halted.

"Um, hello?" Gendry tentatively said, taking a step forward, subconsciously raising a protective hand toward Arya and Cait.

When seeing the young woman closely, they saw her bangs were large and covered up her eyes. The black and white dress she wore appeared lovely. What stood out the most was a golden horn poking out from her hair with a seemingly matching set of accessories on each side of her head. Despite the unique ornaments, she had this odd sense of beauty.

"Uhhhhh…"

The one group blinked in their own respective fashion. The way the young woman responded was… strained. It was more like she was emanating a sound from her throat but not speaking at all. As if she hardly used it at all.

"What was that?" Arya said. "I don't think we heard you correctly."

"Ha…" The girl replied, the growling manner only further confusing them.

"Can she not speak?" Cait Sith mused aloud. "Or can she speak at all?"

"Hai!" The horned girl appeared stated.

"Oh, so it would seem." Cait remarked.

"You understood that?" Gendry inquired. "How?"

"Hai is another way of saying yes where I come from." The cat elaborated.

Arya made a face, scrunching her face up as her head snapped up at the girl, shifting to Cait a moment later.

"Hang on, then… wait… if she can't speak then how did you-"

"Perhaps one of the few things she can come across in saying. Rather a limited vocabulary, perhaps."

The girl before them nodded at the cat, making him incline his head up with a proud smirk.

Arya gave the cat a flat look before turning back to the horned girl.

"So you can understand us at least." The Stark girl stated rather than ask.

The young woman before them gave a few quick nods with light grunts in response. She looked down slightly before plucking out a blue flower from the patch and offering it to the small group. More specifically the Stark girl.

Off-putted from the little act, Arya accepted the little gift. "Uh, thank you." She awkwardly says. "It's… pretty."

With how close the one young woman was, Arya was able to make out her heterochromia eyes from behind her large bangs. One blue and one golden yellow.

More would've been said if something else didn't happen.

Like a flip of a coin, the horned girl suddenly shifted from a calm being to being ferocious.

"Grrrrr!"

The way the young woman growled made the others think she was intimidating a dog, or perhaps a wolf.

Reaching down into the flowers, the woman hoisted up what appeared to be a rather large and unique-looking mace. The weapon's head is a large, spherical orb with odd lines and indentations. On the other end of the metallic pole is a unique heavy attachment which served as the counterweight.

"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" Cait cried out as he and the others backed up significantly. "What's with the hostility?!"

"RAAAHHHHHH!"

The one group panicked upon hearing her berserker-like yell as she suddenly sprung into action.

The woman rushed forward with surprising speed. The small group expected her to attack them. Instead, she rushed past them and attacked something from behind their field of vision.

"What the-?"

Turning around, the one group all but jumped in surprise upon seeing what caused the one woman's sudden change of mood.

"Heartless?!" Arya cried out.

Indeed, there was a plethora of Heartless present: Shadows, Darkballs, Fat Bodies, Flutterings, Armored Knights and Soldiers.

The horned woman swung her mace and the sound of metal being crushed emanated in the area. One Heartless fell onto the earth and darkness seeped off its body before it dispersed and vanished. With this one down, the mace-wielding woman charges at the next one nearby.

Seeing the large amount before them and to the only person on the offensive, Arya spoke aloud. "We need to help her!"

Withdrawing Needle, the Stark girl charged forward. Her trusty direwolf wasn't far behind as it bolted from it's spot, causing the talking feline to fall off in the process.

"Arya, wait!" Gendry cried out.

"That girl." Groans Cait as he summoned Moogle Mog and landed on it's head. "No use dilly dallying, laddy. Let's assist the wild lass."

The young blacksmith reluctantly agrees as he wields his warhammer as the pair rush in soon after.

Arya jumped right into the thick of it, recalling everything Roxas, Cloud and Syrio had been teaching her the past few months.

Parry, parry, thrust, thrust, parry, parry, thrust, thrust, repeat.

The Stark girl had to use her size and form to her advantage. Speed was the deciding factor against these creatures. It was what she was essentially trained for.

Quick defensive efforts were made before making matching offenses to take down some of the smaller Heartless. The bigger and sturdier ones would prove more difficulty for the young wolf. Luckily her beloved direwolf was able to help knock them down for her to exploit in taking them out.

She saw the horned woman was making a lot of effort in taking out the dark creatures. However, in the process, Arya noticed her actions were reckless. How she was wide open to many attacks as if she was basically asking for it. Yet the dress wearing berserker of a woman was making up for it with her brute strength.

The woman leapt into the air and landed on top of one of the Fat Bodies to bash its head in. It was taken out after a few strong hits. Leaping once more, she brought her mace down hard to the ground. A mere moment later, outside from the small shockwave, bolts of green lightning came down to strike the other monsters.

Varying roars could be heard from the dark creatures with lightning coursing through their bodies before dropping on the ground with smoke emanating from their corpses before they disintegrated into dark vapors.

Witnessing this, Arya could only think of one thing. 'She can use magic!'

Distracted with what she witnessed, she didn't notice an Armored Knight come in from the side. She was saved by Gendry, who bashed the foe and sent it staggering away. With the one opening, the young blacksmith went in to take it out.

"You need to pay more attention, Arya." The Stark girl heard Cait Sith say from nearby. "What would Syrio say about that? Not to mention charging recklessly."

'Tsk'ing to herself, Arya could imagine her Water Dancing master chastising her for being distracted in the midst of battle. With this reminder, she went back into battle, but a bit more guarded in the process. Nymeria quickly rushed in to her partner, sinking her teeth in the neck of a Heartless that tried getting her from behind.

The large direwolf thrashed the poor dark being around before it disbursed, leaving Nymeria to pounce to her next victim.

Swinging his warhammer, Gendry bashed away a number of the Heartless before acting quickly to block a blow. He backed away and delivered a retaliating strike with an underswing. Though he was still green in terms of combat, Gendry possessed the raw strength that he had inherited from his bloodline coupled with the intensity of being a blacksmith.

Still, the Heartless were far different from humans. These were more durable than the Gold Cloaks and Lannister men the young blacksmith fought against at the Great Sept of Baelor. It was even hard to say how these Heartless compare against his first encounter with them at the same place and time.

Regardless, he needed to fend them off to protect the young Stark girl alongside Cait Sith.

Speaking of the aforementioned cat…

Upon leaping off of Moogle Mog, he went into a Kitty Wallop against several Shadows. He was able to stagger them before bashing them with his megaphone before sending out several magical shots at a Darkball nearby. From there, he began running around to get a better view of the vicinity to figure out his next course of action. Even on occasion shooting out some more magical shots left and right at the airborne foes when they came swooping in.

In the process, Moogle Mog was delivering several punches and drop kicks at some Fat Bodies and twirling attacks send them flying and didn't show any signs of stopping with the relentless assault. Especially with a well placed Moogle Knuckle to really take out a Fat Body.

With its independent action, Moogle Mog spotted the horned woman and went to assist her. Getting close, Cait Sith's companion grabs her arm. Upon feeling the contact, she sought to retaliate until she felt herself being rapidly swung about. In the process, she essentially gained a larger reach with her mace in striking down more Heartless as they came too close to them.

Once letting her go, Moggle Mog was summoned back to Cait Sith as a giant dice piece appeared in its hand. It was thrown directly at one of the airborne Heartless before it properly fell to the ground with the "1" side facing upwards. As a result, a ball of fire came down hard to strike down and roast a few of the Heartless.

As this went on, the horned woman took proper notice of the others assisting her in taking out the Heartless. Soon enough, she returns the favor in assisting them in turn. Lightning danced around her body as she performed a Thunder Dash to speed around the area and destroy many enemies in her wake.

The skirmish went on until the last of the Heartless were defeated and no more were present in the vicinity.

"Uhhh…"

"Uhhh?" Arya assumed the unique woman was voicing a question. "Is something the matter?"

"Ah." The woman voiced, holding her mace in both hands. Instead of being tense, it was a bit more relaxed. "Geeewd… jaooob."

The others looked at her upon hearing the slight slurred or rather broken speech. For Arya, she thought if she was perhaps simple minded, somewhat like Hodor.

"I agree." Cait Sith says with his signature smile on top of Moggle Mog. "We did well. I believe-"

"There you are…" Spoke a male, exasperated voice.

The interruption drew everyone's attention as they looked towards the source.

There they saw a tall, handsome young man with a chiseled and slightly pointed face, pale skin, and long wavy blonde hair down to his back. The most striking feature was his golden eyes. His attire was nice and fair with the leather pants and black boots that went well with his long-sleeved white shirt. There were also hints of a large scar on his chest, courtesy from the opening of his white shirt. Strapped to his waist is a longsword. And held in his one hand was a basket filled with a number of items.

Walking closer, the new arrival eyed the others present before focusing on the horned woman.

"Eve, what have I told you about wandering off without telling me?" The pale man lightly admonished.

"Mrph," The now-identified Eve grunted out, jogging over to the man to hug him as a means of apologizing.

The man smiled, ruffling her hair affectionately. "I am not upset. Merely concerned for your safety."

"Hmph. Aahh." Eve remarked with a small smile.

"Yes, I know you can take care of yourself quite easily. Just make sure to tell me when you leave the castle. I'd rather not rely on the Samurai all the time."

"Hai." Eve nodded.

"You can… understand her?" Arya spoke up in slight wonder.

"More or less. Mostly guesswork but she does give off that air sometimes. Or maybe just being her brother gives me that advantage. You know, a sibling-type language."

"What?" Gendry dumbly said.

"Strangely, that makes sense." Arya remarked, a reminiscent and fond look in her eyes, recalling her favorite brother.

Focusing away from Eve, the beautiful man questions the group. "Now then, who might you lot be?"

"A pleasure to meet you, good sir." The talking cat was the first to happily greet the man. "I'm Cait Sith, fortune teller extraordinaire. At your service."

The pale man blinked curiously before giving a greeting in kind. "You as well. I am Alucard. And this here is Eve. Say hello, like we practiced."

"H-He-Hello." Eve struggled to say.

"There we go," Alucard praised, causing his sister to beam happily.

With things a tad more lax after how tense things were, more introductions were made.

"I am Gendry Waters and this is the lady Arya Stark."

"I am not a lady." Arya snapped at her friend all but instantly.

"But I'm trying to be cordial here." Gendry argued.

"Just don't call me a lady. I never was and never will be. And don't say my family name, not now!" The young girl hissed.

Alucard ignored all this banter and stared intently at the young blacksmith before the girl, the gray-eyed preteen noticing his gaze.

"Wh-what?" She now appeared nervous. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Waters…" Alucard slowly said. "Arya… Stark…?"

"Y-yes…" Her face shifted. "Wait, do you know me?"

There was a gleam in Alucards eye, with a smirk that followed suit. "Pray tell, do you know of Roxas?"

This startled the group in general whereas Eve tilts her head inquisitively.

"Roxas?!" Cait, Gendry and Arya said in unison.

"You know him?" Gendry asked.

"Indeed I do." Alucard confirmed. "He's a good friend of mine. And he has mentioned you, Arya Stark." His lips move downward in a frown. "You were supposedly at King's Landing, were you not?"

"We were but-"

"Then you lot are a long way from home." He cut her off, exhaling a second later. "Oh my."

Gendry and Arya were confused about this response.

"Oh my?" The former parroted.

"Well, yes, I'm away from Winterfell-"

"I'm not talking about the North. Nor Westeros as you know it. Nor the World."

This was all that was needed that got Cait Sith to groan out a response. "Oh you've got to be kiddin' me!"

"Cait?" The latter of the two said.

"Ah, I should've known." The anthropomorphic cat slapped his forehead, shaking his head. "I can't believe I didn't see the signs."

"Signs?" Gendry repeated, glancing at Arya who shrugged. "What signs?

"We're no longer in Westeros." Cait Sith revealed, making his two companions freeze up and their eyes widen in mixed confusion.

"What do you mean we're not in Westeros?" Arya said in bewildered anxiousness.

"It's a very complicated matter." Cait ruefully said, exhaling haggardly. "Urgh, this has happened one too many times for my taste."

"Indeed." Alucard interjects. "Come. We should reconvene at my castle. I'll explain more once there."

"Your castle?"

Nudging his head, Alucard all but directed the new arrivals to this World to his home.

The architecture of the castle was almost unbelievable with how striking it was. The dark, mysterious feel it radiates was surprising for the new arrivals to this world to fathom. It was practically impossible with how it was structurally made with otherworldly and enormous details.

To Arya, it almost made her think Winterfell was smaller in comparison with Gendry thinking the same towards the Red Keep. To Cait Sith, however, it reminded him much of the decrepit castle of Hollow Bastion over at Radiant Gardens.

"Well… Aren't you coming?"

Breaking their focus from the castle, the group went after Alucard and Eve as they sought answers to their many questions.

-End Chapter-

AN:

Been a while since working on this. I honestly would've updated this far sooner, but life and work got in the way. As a result, losing a lot of motivation to even pop up the doc and make any attempt at writing with exhaustion and blocks halting any progression. There was also the factor of trying to plan things out in not just this story with the many changes but other ones I've been helping out on.

With this out of the way, things have been rather decent.

House of the Dragon Season 2 came out weeks ago and almost at the season finale in a few weeks from now. So happy with what was done in it. I even recall a certain rant of mine on season 1 with Leanor Velaryon's "death" as I didn't like the possible outcome of him returning to portray Addam of Hull during the initial war events, but that wasn't the case at all; thank god.

There's also the Elden Ring: Shadow of the Erdtree DLC. It came out recently and I've been putting it off of tackling it due to me wanting to try and fail to write. And work also contributing in killing my gaming mood. So hopefully soon I'll finally hit that long awaited DLC and enjoy getting myself killed in the game.

FMW: I just haaaate that we have such a short season for HoTD. I mean come on, ya couldn't have given us a full ten? Bah, least we know this show spent its budget intelligently and accordingly unlike some shows *COUGH COUGH* Acolyte *COUGH COUGH* show is utter dogshit *COUGH COUGH*. Going to an earlier part of Jeb's note, yeah, life for all of us has been a raging bitch so we haven't been able to work on this or really most of our other works. At most, we have been able to discuss and expand on ideas and such but other than that, it's been a fucking hassle to write, exhaustion being a deciding factor on many nights when we could be writing. Instead, it's just passing out at bed and dozing off till tomorrow. Frustrating crap like that.

FMW: But with this put of the way, much of "loose ends" of season one have been addressed yet the story ramifications will be felt for the rest of this tale. Jamie learning about his sisters death, Arya and her company in Wallachia and so on and so forth. Being a Ned/Ashara stan, you can't imagine how glad I am we get to do this. Her story and so much more to be told both here and in the prequel Tie-in Rebellion. We have a lot to cover for Season 2 which means a lot of discussions that have been taking up time and all but now, we're going in full throttle. We can't promise consistent updates due to our other stories and life being a DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICK but we shall endeavor to the best of our abilities.

Anyways, be sure to review this story guys! Would like the criticisms. Please and thank you!

R&R