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"Speech"

'Thoughts'

Writing/Singing

"Foreign Language/Flashback"

-Scene Shift-

Chapter 45: Storm's a Brewing

Grumbling to himself, Tyrion makes his way back to the Tower of the Hand. More specifically his chambers as he has a dire need to either have a good fuck or to take a nap or perhaps both. Whichever worked well after what he had to deal with.

Things have not been well lately for him. Work has become more difficult for both him and Myrcella, courtesy of Joffrey's actions.

It all stemmed from a particular bit of news he received from Cloud days ago when he returned from patrolling the city far sooner than intended.

He was working through some documents when Cloud all but broke through his office door in the Tower of the Hand. The imp was startled by the abrupt action as a result.

"We need to talk, now."

"Is there a problem?"

"Dozens of Lannister soldiers and Gold Cloaks went through the city and are not only harassing many of its citizens but are also killing bastards on the order of your nephew."

Tyrion was completely thrown off by what Cloud just said. All he could mutter out in shock was "What?"

"They've been killing bastards- boy or girl, child or young adult- in front of people and their families. More specifically those who belonged to Robert." Cloud narrowed his eyes, having the imp shift very nervously in his seat with how unsettling the power in such a gaze was. "Did you know anything about this?"

The acting Hand of the King looked offended. "Of course not. I would never be a part of something like this. Believe me, I'll have words with Joffrey, but he is king. There's little I can do about it."

"Then make the effort, because a riot is brewing and I don't know how much time there is before it erupts."

And most certainly, Tyrion indeed had words with Joffrey, but with mixed results.

Mirroring Cloud's actions earlier, Tyrion all but stormed into Joffrey's chambers as he was being fitted for a new kingly outfit. Accompanying him was Bronn with Nanaki in tow.

"What is it?" Joffrey questions his uncle. "Don't you see I'm-"

"What have you done?" Tyrion all but growls in frustration. Seeing his nephew's confusion, he clarifies. "The bastards!"

A bit of clarity hits the king, earning a smug look on his face. "I had them killed." Tyrion fumes, having him pacing a little in the room like a small lion. Joffrey soon explains his reason. "They were a threat to me-"

"Idiot!"

Ser Meryn Trant, who stood nearby, spoke up a warning. "Beware how you speak to your king, my lord."

The acting Hand rounds at the Kingsguard member while pointing at Joffrey. "The king is my nephew and my nephew is a fool! He's worse than a fool! He's murdered innocent people!"

Meryn grasps the handle of his sword and means to draw it but halts when Bronn speaks up. "Careful, now. We don't wanna dirty that pretty white cloak of yours."

The Kingsguard makes the attempt to refute, but the growling from Red XIII makes him still as he didn't take real notice of the creature before until now. Even Joffrey was momentarily startled by his presence.

"What made you think to harm those people?" Tyrion questions his nephew. "They committed no crimes against you. They were innocent-"

"They were not innocent to me." Joffrey argues. "At least I've done something. I'm showing my might while not currying favor with the fishwives."

A bitter chuckle emanates from the little lion. "That you did, in the worst possible way after so little time. After all, you all but had them publicly slain!" He roared, all but imitating his best impression of an angry Tywin Lannister. "They are sons and daughters, sisters and brothers! And their families are weeping and cursing your name! We're about to have a full blown riot, because of you! Instead of doing things quietly, you instead went loudly. You diminished us!"

The words didn't exactly go through Joffrey's head quite easily. "I am the king and I can do whatever I like."

His uncle had a cold glare as he responded to his deranged nephew. "The Mad King did as he liked. Do you recall what happened to him?"

Hearing this caused Ser Meryn Trant to step forward and ready to draw out his sword. "No one threatens his Grace in the presence of the Kingsguard."

"I'm not threatening the King, Ser. I'm educating my nephew." Tyrion then turns to his sellsword. "Bronn, the next time Ser Meryn speaks, kill him." His focus then shifts to Nanaki. "And Red, you can assist if you'd like."

This earned a look from the Kingsguard member as he focuses on Bronn and Red XIII who seemed a bit eager to do so.

"That was a threat. See the difference?" Was his rhetorical query.

He can already imagine Joffrey will have the sobriquet of "monstrous" for his actions.

The abrupt meeting didn't go as planned, but Tyrion had a bigger mess to clean up as a result. This resulted in less and less hours of pleasantry on numerous fronts.

Tyrion came out of his bitter recollection when he heard Shae laughing in a room nearby.

'Probably Nanaki keeping her company.' Tyrion surmises as he grasps the door handle.

Upon opening it, he indeed saw Shae and Nanaki there, but with unexpected company.

"My lord," Varys greets the acting Hand as he got up from his seat.

"You make us wait a long time," says Shae as she pops a grape into her mouth, "but your friend kept us company."

Tyrion's gaze never left Varys, who spoke right after. "We were just speaking of your unique time with dragons."

A small twitch came to the imp's eye at the mention of this. He knew some information about him and certain individuals interacting with Leviathan and Bahamut would get out and be well known at some point. He would've liked to keep it underwraps for the time being to not only relish the feeling, but to not be trodden upon constantly.

"They were… quite the experiences."

"I imagine so." Varys sat back down with a present smirk on his face. "Flying out of the Eyrie, the Riverlands and so forth."

Having walked past them, Tyrion reaches towards a wine bottle to pour himself a cup. "Was there anything else?"

"I told him how we met." Says Nanaki.

"I, as well." Shae includes, using some of Tyrion's cover story of her working for his father's kitchen staff. Though she had to throw some flare into the mix.

The Spider smiles as he gazes at the pair he was conversing with earlier. "To find such individuals under unique circumstances. It is almost a beggar's belief."

"Strange things do happen." Tyrion takes a sip from his goblet. "You should try out her fish pie."

"I don't think Lord Varys likes fish pie."

"How can you tell?" The spymaster asks playfully.

"I can always tell."

"She probably has a way with knowing." Nanaki comments. "Such a trait almost reminds me of a friend of mine."

"Aerith, right?" Asks Shae, earning a small nod in turn.

"Men like Lord Varys and I can't let our disadvantages get the best of us." Tyrion takes another sip from his cup. "We'll make a fisherman out of him yet."

A hum emanates from Varys' throat. "I am glad your new friends were able to accompany you to the capital. Friends are such an important part of life." His gaze shifts over to the Lannister. "Unfortunately, I can imagine your father wouldn't want her to come, let alone with him." His attention focuses on Shae and Nanaki momentarily, earning a small reaction from Tyrion in turn. "But rest easy, my lord. I am very good at keeping secrets for my good friends."

"...Your discretion is legendary… where your friends are concerned."

Shae was one thing, given Tywin Lannister's distastement towards anything which may tarnish the family name. After all, Tyrion had done it when he married Tysha. As for Nanaki, the imp could imagine how his presence is like an omen of the extinct House Reyne.

The spymaster gets up from his seat and makes a small bow to the two people who entertained him for the time being. "How unspeakable of me to go on and on when all you want to do is rest."

"It's rather argumentative with me as I'd rather be out with Cloud to help."

"I imagine so, Nanaki." Varys smiles a little. "Regardless, I'll leave you." He gently takes hold of Shae's hand and kisses it. "Welcome to King's Landing, you two. This city will be much brighter by your presence."

Shae smiles at the flattery whereas Nanaki snorts with a bit of humor. Tyrion, meanwhile was a little on edge with Varys' presence.

The Eunuch gave the Hand an amicable smile. "We have a council meeting, my lord."

As the Spider made his way to the door, Tyrion all but blocks it by placing his hand on it's surface. "I don't like threats." The imp says lowly.

This earned an inquisitive look in response. "Who threatened you?"

Tyrion's eyes narrowed. "I'm not Ned Stark. I understand the way this game is played."

"Ned Stark was a man of honor." Varys idly retorted.

"And I am not." The Hand's tone grew lower. "Threaten me again and I'll have you thrown into the sea."

A look was directed towards the imp as Varys grasps the door handle. "You might be disappointed in the results. Storms come and go, the big fish eat the little fish, and I keep on paddling." He opens the door to let him and Tyrion enter the hallway. "Come. We shouldn't keep the king waiting."

At the Small Council chamber, the council members were given the audience of Ser Alton Lannister.

"From this time to the end, we are not part of your realm, but a free and independent kingdom of the North." Joffrey finishes off reading from a piece of parchment. He looks up to his one cousin. "Was that it?"

"Yes, your Grace."

Getting this response, the King in turn tore up the paper, crumpled it up and tossed aside.

'Of course that would be his response.' Was perhaps the collective thought shared by the rest of the Small Council.

Not much exactly went on for today's meeting until the arrival of Ser Alton Lannister who came with the letter containing Robb Stark's terms of peace.

One was agreeable, another not so much. And the last one made Joffrey feel outright offended, given it was his belief the North was his by right.

"He has more spirit than his father, I'll give him that." Came Baelish's comment.

Tyrion hums a little to reflect on Robb Stark's demands. "We can give him his people's bones back at least as a gesture of good faith."

Myrcella has a similar thought as well. And she would perhaps arrange the same treatment for the Dornish.

Of course the demand towards Ned Stark and his daughters will not work out as believed for obvious reasons. They were not here, but acting in their stead was Jeyne Poole to portray Arya and some eventual girl that bore some resemblance to Sansa.

"You'll give the Starks our reply, cousin?" Joffrey questions dryly.

"I will, your Grace."

It was at this point did Myrcella speak up. "Did you see uncle Jamie when you were there?"

"I did." Says Ser Alton. "They have not broken his spirit, my princess."

A small smile graced her lips. "If you see him again, tell him he's not been forgotten."

"I will, my princess."

"Safe travels, cousin." Says the acting Hand. Ser Alton bows and was escorted out of the Small Council chamber to rest and eat before he would be sent out in the morning. With him gone, Tyrion speaks. "If that's everything…"

"A- A raven flew in this morning." Pycelle interrupts, drawing attention from the others. "From Castle Black."

"Trouble with the Wildlings." Varys says simply.

"That's why they're called 'Wildlings'." Baelish said in a dismissive tone. .

Tyrion hummed, idly drumming his hands on the table. "Somewhat less wild these days. Seems they've stopped killing each other and started following this King-Beyond-the-Wall."

"Another king for my throne?" Joffrey hisses. "The nerve of him."

Myrcella rolls her eyes at her brother's behavior as her uncle reads off what came from the Wall. "The lord commander asks that we send more money and men to man the Wall."

Joffrey scoffed, completely annoyed at this matter. "Clearly he's forgotten we're at war."

"Or perhaps he doesn't know." Says the princess.

Tyrion's lip twitches upward a little before reading the last line of the letter. Of course, he mostly speaks it aloud which made him feel a shiver down his back. "Cold winds are rising and the dead rise with them."

The grand maester all but scoffs. "The Northerners are a superstitious people."

"According to the commander, two of these dead men attacked him in his chambers." Tyrion frowned slightly. "Mormont doesn't lie."

Questioning looks were directed towards the imp with Varys speaking one. "How do you kill a dead man?"

"Apparently you burn him."

This got a chuckle from the king. "One trip to the Wall and you come back believing all sorts of nonsense."

"There is a lot to believe, these days. Have you missed the creatures of literal darkness attacking Westeros? Or have they all been a collective apparition induced by an unseen force?" Tyrion comments, pleased at the shift the Small Council had at that reminder. "But here's a fact for you, nephew. The Night's Watch is the only thing that separates us from what lies beyond the Wall."

"And I have every confidence that the men there will protect us all." Was Joffrey's sarcastic remark as he and several others of the Small Council left.

With only Tyrion and Myrcella being the last ones in the chamber to leave, the princess speaks. "Yes, but with what's happening these days, I don't know if the tales are in fact true."

"I had similar thoughts as well, my dear."

-Beyond the Wall-

"-And I said, if the gods wanted us to have dignity, they wouldn't make us far when we died."

"We fart when we die?"

"Aye, Glenn, we do." Says Edd, chopping up some potatoes alongside his friends. "My blessed mother- I was holding her hand when she left this world. She farted so hard, the whole bed shook." He puffed his cheeks and blew raspberries, earning some laughs in turn.

There was some good nature in the air, despite the cold at Crastor's Keep.

For these past days and perhaps a bit more, the team of Night's Watch members would work out many chores to repay Crastor's "hospitality" in letting them stay in his property. This meant cutting up food, chopping wood, shoveling the pens, etc. It wasn't entirely great, but it somewhat beat some tasks they had back at the Wall in terms of difficulty.

Eventually the team would leave and move on once the Lord Commander had chartered a proper route on the next stage of their mission.

Eyes left the one table and glanced over to one of Crastor's "wives" with their owner voicing his passing thought. "Seems a bit greedy for one man to have so many wives." Glenn and Edd look at Sam as he says this. "Wouldn't two or three be enough for him?"

"We were having a serious discussion."

Eyes rolled at Edd's response as the one man focused on cutting the potatoes.

Of course, this got Glenn to look as he too looked at the women. "Would you look at that? Nothing like the sight of a woman walking away." He says with a small smile. "I prefer watching them come towards me."

The former Tarley heir saw little appeal to the idea. "I'm sure that's nice, too."

"Yeah, well, there was a milkmaid named Violet on the next farm over from where I grew up." Glenn reminisces. "We were wrestling together from the time we were six years old. And then we got older and the wrestling, uh…" he chuckles on the fond memories, "changed."

"You were with her?" Sam questions, earning a small look from his friend. "How many times, I mean?"

"Well, as many times as I could."

"...I wish I grew up on a farm."

Living in Hornhill was pleasant, for the most part. He had a loving mother, a nice brother and sister. Sam could've been fine without his father, though. However, there were times where he wondered what it would've been like if he wasn't of noble birth and had a simpler life.

"We need more potatoes." Says Edd, drawing Sam's attention. "Get another sack from the sledge." The Tarley boy walks off but halts slightly with what came next. "Get the turnips, too."

Navigating through Castor's Keep, Samwell did his best to not interact with any of the Wildling women. However, he stops when hearing one of them scream. Turning, Sam saw one of the "wives" backing away from the direwolf Ghost.

More or less seeing how unsettled the woman was, and not wanting to cause any issues, Sam acted. "No. Ghost, no. No!" He walks up to the beast and gets in between the direwolf and the woman. "Ghost, away. Shoo, shoo!"

He knew Jon's direwolf wasn't too bad. In fact, he was rather friendly once giving him a chance. And Samwell thought the beast was a good judge of character. But not everyone knew that, especially the one Wildling.

Seeing Ghost leave, Sam turns to the frightened woman. "You all right?"

She was a mousy looking girl who was rather pretty in his eyes. Small with shaggy dark hair and a gaunt face. He notes to have large, doe-like brown eyes. By his guess, she was perhaps around his age.

"You- You shouldn't touch me."

He backs away and speaks softly. "Oh. Oh, right. I'm sorry. I just wanted to make sure you weren't hurt."

The woman looked at Sam as silence more or less blanketed him. She was no doubt judging him and rightfully so with how weary she is.

"You're very brave." She says finally.

He perks up at this, earning a small smile on the compliment. "I-I'm Samwell."

"Gilly."

'Gilly.' Sam thought with a small smile. 'No doubt short for gillyflower.'

Elsewhere on the property, Jon was taking a break from his assigned tasks for the day. Slumped against a tree, Jon was brushing a whetstone against Longclaw. He didn't exactly need to do it, given the Valyrian sword wouldn't dull and stayed sharp. Yet it was something for him to somewhat clear his mind of varying things. A trait he picked up on from his father.

This came to a halt when hearing someone step in front of him. Looking up, he saw Samwell standing next to one of Crastor's wives.

"What are you doing?" His voice seemingly on edge. He still knows of Jeor's command to not interact with any of these women.

"This is Gilly." The Tarley boy introduces. "She's one of Craster's… daughters."

'I can see that.' Thought Jon before focusing on the girl. "Hello, Gilly." He then turns back to his friend. "What are you doing?"

"Sam said you could help." Says the wildling.

"I'm sorry, but Sam knows we're not supposed-"

"She's pregnant." Sam interrupts, drawing a look from the bastard of Winterfell. "We have to take her with us when we leave."

"What?" Jon all but scrambles to his feet in disbelief. "What would that-?"

"I know it sounds a bit mad."

"No, it doesn't sound a bit mad, it's impossible. The Lord Commander ordered us to-"

"We are sworn to protect."

"Sam, we can't take-"

Gilly soon butts in. "Please, ser, please. I can still run if I have to."

"It's just not possible."

"I'm going to have a baby. If it's a boy…"

Part of the discussion Jon had with the others days ago soon surfaces back to the front of his mind. The peculiar detail of why only women lived here instead of men. One which made Jon rather curious and worried on the ramifications.

In a manner, Jon was finally having the chance to know what is going on.

"If it's a boy… what happens?"

Gilly looks about to see if they would be spotted having this conversation. She doesn't know what to say as she didn't want to get any of them in trouble.

Hearing no response from Gilly, Jon says "You want us to risk our lives for you and you won't even tell us why?"

Getting this from the Night's Watch member, Gilly steps back and walks away.

Looking away from her retreated form, Sam focuses on Jon. "Why'd you do that?"

"Do what? Ask her a question?"

"You were cruel."

"Cruel?" Jon all but snaps. "Sam, are you sure in a hurry to lose a hand?"

"I didn't touch her."

"No, you just want to steal her. What do you think Craster cuts off for that?"

"I can't steal her. She's a person, not a goat."

Taking a breath, Jon speaks reason. "We're heading deeper and deeper into Wilding territory. We can't take a girl with us. Mormont wouldn't have it. And even if he would, what would we do with her? Who's going to deliver a baby, you?"

"...I could try." A groan escapes Jon's mouth, having Sam respond. "What? I've read about it." This earned a look from his friend. "A bit."

Sighing, Jon says, "I'm sorry, Sam. We can't help her."

Relative silence blankets the air around them as Sam walks off and Jon left alone to brood some more on his one decision.

Sam's heart was big as the rest of him, but for all his reading he could be as thick at times. It was impossible and no doubt dishonorable.

So why did he feel so ashamed?

-The Iron Islands-

Cries of seagulls sung in the air with the splashing of waves rocked the Myraham. The saltiness wafts through the nose of many of the shiphands.

For one Theon Greyjoy, nostalgia washes over him.

Looking onward from the ship's edge, he saw a magnificent sight he could only recall from dreams and memories. It was his ancestral home: Pyke of the Iron Islands.

Pyke is a castle located on the island of the same name, which is the regional capital of the Iron Islands as a whole. It's an ancient storm-worn fortress built atop the cliff jutting out into the sea, but over time the cliff eroded, leaving the castle's keeps and towers standing on three barren islands and a dozen small stacks. Each of the towers are connected by treacherous-footed, swaying rope bridges. The central keep, its towers and walls are made of the same gray-black stone of which the rest of the island is composed. And in the thousands of years the castle has stood, it has become covered with green lichen.

A curtain wall encloses the headland of fifty acres and the cliffs around the foot of the wide stone bridge which extend out to the largest islet. The Great Keep, the Kitchen Keep and the Guest Keep each sit on their own island. Towers and outbuildings are located on stacks beyond them, linked to each other by covered archways where the pillars stood close and by other rope bridges.

It is the stronghold and seat of House Greyjoy after Aegon's Conquest once House Houre perished.

For years, Pyke was long considered impregnable, but during the Greyjoy Rebellion, immense siege-ships commanded by Stannis Baratheon smashed the walls down with boulders, allowing ground troops to eventually storm the castle. Once Balon Greyjoy bent the knee, Theon was taken to Winterfell to be a hostage/ward to House Stark to keep Balon in line given he was the only son left alive.

And now Theon was returning home after nearly a decade.

There was a feeling within his chest. Memories of his time here before the Rebellion. He could imagine it being something akin to being welcomed.

'Hopefully I'll receive the same from my family.' Theon thought, making his way back inside of the guest cabin of the Myraham. 'Regardless, I've never seen a more stirring sight.'

The ride from Harrenhal to Oldtown was strenuous for Theon. He had to do all he could to make it around the Lannister territory on his own. Avoiding Lannister men patrolling the border along with fending off against Heartless and Unversed were a tricky matter, but the Greyjoy persevered by the skin of his teeth.

It took some convincing towards the one captain to ferry him to Pyke, but some gold Theon acquired from his Heartless hunts proved useful.

Entering the guest cabin, Theon was greeted with the sight of the captain's daughter. She has fine dark hair and heavy breasts. Her skin is slightly blotchy as oatmeal. She was a shade plump for Theon's taste, but he put such a detail aside for several reasons.

"Is it as you remember, my lord?"

"It looks smaller." Came Theon's response.

"Everything looks bigger when you're a child." Says the captain's daughter as she sees him disrobe some of his clothing. "I remember my father's cabin felt like a palace when I was little." She giggled soon after. "You can imagine how it is now."

As she smiled, Theon thought she looked a tad stupid but would not say it out loud; let alone mutter. She was a good bedmate and gave him quite the amount of pleasure on the voyage.

"She is no Ros, but she would do." Were Theon's words to himself back on that first night.

All these days, she entertained him with her body, given Theon paid extra coin to the captain for the trouble. She was his bedwarmer and he rewarded her with plenty of tussles to give him plenty of relief.

"They'll be waiting for me on the docks."

"Who will?"

"Anyone who matters." Theon responds with, prying off his shirt over his head to leave him bare chested. "This is a big day for them. And it's a hard place, the Iron Islands. Always has been."

"It must be windy up there." Comments the captain's daughter.

"Windy and cold and damp. A miserable, hard place. But I remember my lord father once telling me that hard places breed hard men, and hard men rule the world."

It was by this point the last of Theon's clothes came off as he descended upon her and took in his carnal pleasure with her one last time.

Given all the time being together, Theon wonders if he really broke the captain's daughter in. She was a maiden when he first bedded her, which surprised the Greyjoy. She fell in love with him, given how much he pleasured her; even offering to become his salt wife when landing on Pyke. However, Theon refuses the offer, telling her that her place was on the Myraham and the mainland, but not with him.

Given Pyke's location, traffic to the island flows through the nearby harbor town Lordsport. And this is where the Myraham more or less docked with the Greyjoy getting onto a raft and was ferried ashore. Shortly after stepping off, the two crewmembers of the Myraham unloaded a few goods Theon brought with him before taking off as their one business with the Greyjoy was over.

Looking about, the Greyjoy saw no familiar faces, no honor guard waiting to escort him from Lordsport to Pyke. He had sent a raven beforehand to inform his father of his eventual arrival. Yet a great number of longships, fifty or sixty at the least, stood out to sea or lay beached.

'Had my father called the banners?' Theon wondered in puzzlement. 'Or is something else at play?'

"What's she carrying?"

Theon looked back to see one of the dockhands of the port town and realized it was he who spoke the question.

"Myrish oranges, wine from the Arbor… and the heir to Pyke and the Iron Islands." Theon lists off to the man. "I am the only living son of Balon Greyjoy." Seeing the man was unimpressed, the Greyjoy heir clicked his tongue. "I require a horse-"

"That will not be needed."

Turning, Theon saw a ratty black-haired woman he figured was in her mid-twenties with lean and long legs with dark eyes. Her face is thin with a big, sharp nose and wind-chafed skin. There is a faded pink scar on her neck from what he notices. She wore a brown quilted tunic, breeches of black or green wool, a studded belt and salt-stained high leather boots.

"I'm heading that way." Said the woman. "I can take you there."

Theon smiles a little as he was essentially checking her out. "I bet you can."

"Have you been at sea long?" She questions while walking away slightly. "Or were there just no women where you came from?"

"None like you."

"You don't know what I'm like."

"Maybe you don't know what you're like. Maybe you need someone to teach you." Theon cocks his head a little. "Do you know who I am?"

The woman snorts. "You think I offer free rides to every man in jewelry, Lord Greyjoy?"

Theon believed her nose was hawk-like, being too big and sharp for her small face, but with that wicked smile of hers made up for it.

Of course the one comment she made-made him a little cross. The jewelry he wore was meant for protection against the Heartless. He should know from experience.

The ride to Castle Pyke was relatively long, in a fashion. He would've ridden his own horse, but the woman giving him a ride only had hers, thus he rode right behind her.

Galloping through the coastline, Theon looked on as he saw phantom memories of his boyhood. Times when he played in the ocean with his sister Asha and their brothers. He can barely recall what they look like, let alone how they sounded which was rather sad.

"You should give me the reins." Says the Greyjoy. "I'm a better rider than you. I've been on horseback for the past nine years."

"Nine years?" Questions the woman. "Do you still know your way around a ship?" She glances down to his hands holding her by the waist. "Have these hands ever touched a rope?"

"They have and more." Was his response. "Don't worry about them." He soon became cheeky as his hands traveled up her waist and caressed her clothed breasts. "The sea is in my blood."

"Your blood will be in the sea if I don't watch where I'm going." With that stated, Theon withdrew his hands and went back to her waist. "Now what business do you have in coming back?"

"I have business with my father. One that will perhaps make him king again, and me after him." The woman hummed upon hearing his response. "You may get to stay in the castle tonight if you're lucky."

"Is that an offer from my future king?"

"An order from your future king." He corrects her. "You can tell your grandchildren about this night."

"I don't imagine it will be a story fit for children."

Reaching Castle Pyke, Theon was eventually escorted inside and told as to where his father resided. Presently he had to get to the Sea Tower on its crooked pillar, which he had to cross three bridges, each narrower than the one before. The last was made of rope and wood, and the wet salt wind made it sway underfoot like a living thing. Theon's heart was in his mouth by the time he was halfway across.

As a boy, he used to run across this bridge and the others, even in the black of night. Boys believe nothing can hurt them, his doubt whispered. Grown men know better.

He took a moment to pause and stare down at the sea from his present spot. For nearly ten years, he had been waiting for this moment to reunite with the rest of his family. The feeling of welcomeness was feeling muted now as all that remained was a particular cold that he didn't like. This made him miss the warmth of Winterfell, the warmth of friends and family.

'Would I still have that here?' He wondered with a frown.

Upon entering the Sea Tower, Theon barely told the guards who he was before going past them. Opening the doors, he entered the Greyjoy family's private dining chambers. Within he saw the lit hearth as it roared with fire with a few people present.

A raggedy man of faded gray hair with tired, salt blue eyes. Theon almost mistook him for someone else until recalling some factors.

"Uncle Aeron."

Aeron Greyjoy, or rather Aeron Damphair, is a Drowned Man in service to the Drowned God. He is the youngest uncle Theon has. He looked far different from who he once knew.

"Nephew." The drowned man greets.

Theon then turns to a large and powerful man, with a bull's broad chest, flat stomach and huge hands. His black hair is flecked with gray, which Theon considers old but still fierce in his own right.

"Uncle Victarion."

"Boy." The Lord Captain of the Iron Fleet says simply.

Theon was glad his other uncle wasn't here. After all these years, he feared and grew weary of Euron. How he could feel this evil coming from him, even in memory.

"Nine years, is it?"

"Nearly ten, father."

And the last of the bunch sat in the chair and was more focused on the fire. Making his way closer, Theon saw his lord father.

Balon Greyjoy had always been thin, but now he looked as though the gods had put him in a cauldron and boiled every spare ounce of fat from his bones, until nothing remained but hair and skin.

Balon doesn't look at him, only at the fire. "They took a frightened boy. What have they given back?"

"A man. Your blood and your heir."

"We shall see."

The Drowned Man spoke next. "Tell me, nephew, do you pray to the wolf gods?"

Theon looked at his one uncle, thinking back slightly to his time in the North. For all the time living there, he never once prayed to the Old Gods. Only towards the Drowned God… in his own limited fashion. However, as of late, the Greyjoy heir found himself praying in a different manner.

"The Starks prayed to them, but not I."

The Lord captain speaks soon after. "Have you fought?"

"Plenty of times."

"Tavern ones?"

Theon snorts at this. "No. I've fought on the fields where my life depended on it." His hand went to the hilt of his sword strapped to his side. "Risked my life several times over."

Victarion eyed his only living nephew and didn't look impressed. "I'm sure you did."

Theon's eyes narrowed. "I've encountered enemies the likes in which none of you had ever seen."

"Have you now?" Victarion dismissively asked.

The young Greyjoy simply scoffed, opting to ignore his uncle now, turning his attention back on his father.

"Ned Stark had you longer than I did." Balon speaks up after his two brothers gave his son their respective questions.

"He's not around… anymore."

It was awkward for Theon to say that. He didn't know if Ned Stark was still alive and well. All he could do was speak of what he could to try and curry favor with his father.

It was at this point did Balon finally look upon his only living son with a critical eye. "And how do you feel about that?"

"Would it really matter to you?" Theon questions back, only receiving silence which was all he needed. Withdrawing a scroll from his side, he handed it over to his father. "I've brought you a proposal from Robb Stark-"

"Who gave you those clothes?" Balon rose from his seat and walked a bit closer to his son. "Was it Ned Stark's pleasure to make you his daughter?"

Glancing down slightly, Theon inspected his attire. Some were of decent leathers and cloth, which he chose in hopes of looking presentable for his family upon his return. However, what he could really tell from what caused his father's displeasure were a few items in particular.

"I'm sure I'll change into something else."

"You will." Balon steps closer, eyeing the piece of jewelry hanging around Theon's neck. "That bauble 'round your neck… did you pay the iron price for it or the gold?" His son glanced down to the item in question, seeing what looked like a trident head with a small gem embedded in it. "I asked you a question." Balon says once more. "Did you pull it from the neck of a corpse you made or did you buy it to match your fine clothes?"

"In a manner, yes."

It had been so long, Theon nearly forgot. In the old ways, women might decorate themselves with ornaments bought with coin, but a warrior wore only the jewelry he took off the corpse of enemies slain with his own hands. Paying the Iron Price, it was called.

The "bauble", the wristband and earrings he wore were composed from some synthesis materials he collected from the Heartless, handing it over to one of the Moogles to craft these charmed trinkets. Each helping him with speed and durability. The same can be said with his sword and daggers in combating against the Heartless.

"Yes?" Balon questions. "The corpse or bought? Iron or gold?"

Instead of waiting for a verbal response from his son, Balon assumed the displeased answer and went to snag the trinket.

However, the moment Lord Greyjoy sought to snatch the piece of jewelry from his son's neck, his hand was snatched. And much to his surprise, Theon all but snarled.

"Don't… you… dare." Theon's grip on his father's hand tightened. "I didn't pay for this with gold. I paid with my own iron price."

The two stared at each other, all but declaring who would blink and back off first. After what felt like hours, Balon pries his hand away from his son's grip and walks away.

This earned a small hum from Aeron while a chuckle came from Victarion. In their own respective ways, they were a tad impressed.

"I almost feared the green lands have made you soft," says Lord Greyjoy, "and the Starks made you theirs."

"Even though I lived with them, my will is of iron with my blood runs with the salt of the ocean."

"Yet Robb Stark sends you to me like a trained raven clutching his message."

"The offer he makes is one I proposed."

Balon raised a disbelieving brow. "He heeds your counsel?"

"I've lived with him, hunted with him, fought at his side. He thinks of me as a brother."

This only has Balon to give out a mix of a snarl and a scoff. "No, not here, not in my hearing." He walks back to him and points into his face. "You will not name him brother, this son of the man who put your true brothers to the sword. Or have you forgotten Rodrik and Maron, who were your own blood?"

"I forget nothing." Was Theon's counter. "I remember my brothers."

Ned Stark had killed neither of his brothers. Rodrik had been slain by Lord Jason Mallister at Seagard, Maron crushed in the collapse of the old South Tower. But Lord Stark would have done for them just as quick had the tide of battle swept them together.

However, when remembering them, he recalled his earlier thoughts upon returning to Pyke. It was sad how he can't recall how they looked or sounded like, but he did recall Rodrik's drunken cuffs and Maron's cruel japes and endless lies.

It soon made him make comparisons to some others in his life after he was taken away by King Baratheon's war galley all those years ago: Robb and Jon, Sansa and Arya, Brandon and Rickon. Ned…

He could make due without Lady Stark, given she often gives him a similar treatment as Jon.

It was dysfunctional, but they gave them a warmth as one family would, even if they did not share blood.

He earned their respect. He earned the right. More so in these past months due to Roxas' presence and influence. Because of him, Theon was given a bit more prestige in the North.

Yet it seems he's going to work from the ground up on his birth family.

Theon handed forward the sealed scroll in his hand towards his father. "I also remember when my father was a king."

A king who became too ambitious in thinking he could rule years after the Targaryen's fell. A king who didn't realize his people's limitations. A king who didn't plan on properly building up his forces before striking at a better time.

Taking the scroll from his son, Balon broke the wax seal and read its contents.

"What does it say, brother?" Victarion asks.

"The Stark boy would give me a crown again. And all I need to do is destroy his enemies." Balon sums up for his commander of the Greyjoy fleet.

"I doubt it'll be as simple as that." Aeron includes. "Especially giving the crown to you."

At the mention of this, Theon gets a little unsettled when seeing his father's crossed look on his face.

What can easily be given could be taken.

Wanting to divert things, even for the time being, Theon speaks. "I would need to take part in the attacks."

"Will you, now?"

"I'm your son, your only living heir. Who else?" The doors to the chamber opened up, having Theon turn to see the one woman who helped him get here stoll on in. "I told you to wait outside." She ignored and walked past him. " How did you get past the guards?"

"Anything with a cock is easy to fool."

She soon stopped as she stood beside Balon, who wrapped an arm around her and bore a small smile. "My dear…"

Theon looked at her quizzically before gazing slightly at his uncles. There he didn't see much of a reaction with them before focusing back at the woman.

This woman…

'Is she his salt wife?' Thought the Greyjoy heir. 'No. It's not. There's something else.' He then voices the amical question wafting in his mind. "Who are you?"

"It's good to see you after so long… brother."

"...Asha?"

He remembered his sister being unattractive by being skinny with knob knees and a face full of pimples. How she used to swim naked in the sea and playing with her dolls. Now she's… this.

The woman, his sister Asha, gave him a smirk. "This is a homecoming I'll tell my grandchildren about."

Theon widened his eyes, soon recalling details from earlier. Oh he felt sick from this realization. 'Oh fuck… I touched my sister!'

"Weren't you listening, boy?"

Theon snapped out of his thoughts upon hearing his father speak. "What?"

"Apparently not." Asha slipped in.

"I'm sorry, but I was too focused on the thoughts about you, Asha."

"I'm sure you were." Was her cheeky retort.

"As I was saying, aside from your uncle, Asha will not just be taking part in the attacks but in fact leading them."

"What?"

"You sound surprised."

"Of course I am. You're a woman!"

"You're the one in skirts."

"I am not and that's not the point."

In other parts of the world, there have been an assortment of female captains and ship leads from over in Essos. But never once was there an Ironborn in such a fashion… ever.

"This is not Winterfell, boy." Says Victarion. "Your sister took over command of your eldest brother's ship sometime after the Rebellion."

"What's dead may never die." Says Aeron.

"What's dead may never die." The others in the room repeat after the Drowned Man.

All except for Theon, given he was still overcome by his shock.

"The only nights she's spent off these islands have been spent on the sea." Balon informs his son. "She commanded men. She's killed men. She knows who she is." He tosses the scroll into the fire soon after. "No man gives me a crown. I pay the iron price. I will take my crown. For that is who I am. That is who we have always been."

The others soon make their way out of the one chamber, but Theon calls out. "You won't stand a chance against what's out there on your own!"

"We'll take our chances."

"...No you won't."

Leaving the chambers and eventually finding his old room did Theon finally have a chance to breathe.

He knew that his return home would not be the most… pleasant of experiences. But he just never expected it to go the way it did.

'It is as if I were a stranger here,' Theon thought. 'Nothing has changed, and yet everything has changed.'

Being alone, Theon wondered how the other Starks were. He hoped they were well.

-Castle Dracula, Wallachia-

A yawn escaped Arya's throat as she and her friends followed Alucard and Eve out of the castle.

It was early morning with daybreak seen in the air with it all so crisp. It would've been rather nice for the Stark girl if she wasn't so damn tired.

"I thought we were going to look at the rest of the armory today." She muttered, rubbing more sleep out of her eyes. "If it is, in fact, today."

"You're apparently not good at mornings." Cait notes with a smirk.

The Stark Girl grumbled half-heartedly. "Sometimes. I usually sleep in to get away from lessons or I don't in order to train."

Gendry, appearing to be unbothered at being up at this time, meanwhile shrugs. "I usually get up a bit earlier to help get the shop ready. You should try it sometime, my lady."

Arya practically hisses.

"Why you imitating a cat?" Cait questions rather coyly. "Wouldn't it seem better to growl?"

This prompted the Stark girl to do just that at the talking feline.

"Much~~ better."

The lord of the castle merely chuckles. "Well, you shouldn't have stayed up so late exploring the castle."

Eve backs him up with a few quick nods while giving off some grunt each time.

The grey-eyed teen smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, Alucard, but your home still looks fantastical. It practically surpasses the Red Keep by leagues."

Alucard smiles at her. "No worries, Arya. And thank you for the compliment."

Things were rather unique since coming here.

Well… unique wasn't what truly came to mind for Arya Stark. It was more extraordinary.

When hearing tales when growing up, the South and anything beyond the Narrow Sea seemed like another world. After all, until the recent months, the North was all she ever knew. As such, Arya believed she'll never have the opportunity to go anywhere else beyond Westeros.

Boy she was most certainly wrong.

Now she was on another World entirely; quite literally in fact.

Obviously there was a whole litany of questions Arya and Gendry asked Alucard whereas Cait asked little about. Neither of the humans really minded -let alone noticed- given they were engrossed with the new land they resided in.

Outside of the clear different sets of cultures, countries and the like; there were senses of familiarity. Nobles and royal families spread across most of the known World. War and strife. And of course the dangers.

Unfortunately for the two Westerosi, they were informed the World has been graced with the Heartless threat. Add on top of the already present issue of the creatures of the night; primarily vampires and night creatures. Alucard even stated he was dhampir with the factors behind it but assured and swore he would not harm his guests. And when questioning about Eve, Alucard did state she was human… in a technical sense.

It was all too much to handle.

"Are we foraging for food again?" Gendry asked.

"No." The dhampir eyed the direwolf who soon took off. "But she is."

The Stark girl frowned a little in missing her precious direwolf companion, but she didn't want to restrain Nymeria's desires for her animalistic nature. And in the process, she was now being ridden by Cait Sith given his rather short frame.

"Are we training then?" Arya asked with anticipation.

A small smirk graced the features of the Dhamphir. "Not in the way you're thinking for the time being."

This only left more questions for the Stark girl and the blacksmith. The talking cat, however, had a certain look on his face like he knew something the two humans didn't.

Heading over to the area of the Belmont Hold, there was a large mechanism Arya saw built over a rather large hole. From what she recalled from Maester Luwin and Uncle Benjen, it was an elevator mechanism to raise or lower its occupants.

Stationed around the peculiar spot were… the unusual guardsmen.

The Samurai, as Alucard called them, were… entities which were loaned to the dhampir by Roxas himself.

"He has his own guards and never bothered to tell us. Seriously?" Arya said back when being first introduced to them.

"Roxas has his own secrets and circumstances he doesn't like to exploit." Alucard says at the time. "I'm sure he'll explain to you since you now know of their existence. But do know your father knew and made use of them, especially when your House's people were attacked during the coup."

This bit of detail did settle Arya, only to a degree.

These Samurai were awfully silent, but were ever vigil on their tasks. Same with the Dusks.

Neither of them had names, which Arya found strange.

After all, who doesn't have a name?

It raised so many questions.

… Maybe she can give them names. Something to distinguish themselves since they all look the same.

At the very least, these Samurai were the guards of the property as there wasn't any other form of security. There was another, however, but it's apparently broken.

Once again, more questions.

After greeting the Samurai, the dhampir ushered the others to join him on the platform before pulling down the guard rail. In the meantime, one of the Samurai unlatched the harness to the anchor pole before Alucard activated a switch. Soon after, the platform shook momentarily as it began its descent.

Being lowered down the shaft, the group quickly saw the devastation around them. The signs of the large winding stairwell were occasionally shattered.

Much like how it was back inside of the castle, there were signs of battle which took place. Even with the debris having been cleaned out, it would no doubt take a long time for it to be restored to how it once was.

Looking about, eyes quickly caught onto the large painting of a blonde man.

"Who's that?" Gendry inquired, intrigued by the picture. The man looked fierce and strong, wielding a sword with an unyielding expression immortalized by whomever painted this piece.

Turning over, Alucard saw the large portrait painting and gave the response. "That would be Leon Belmont, the earliest known ancestor to my friend Trevor."

Taking in this bit of information, the two humans and talking cat were silent in digesting the bit of information.

Reaching the bottom, the platform made a hard thud against the ground. Raising the guard rail, Alucard got off and went over to secure it with a hook.

Given the okay, the others got off the platform and followed after Alucard.

Coming across the only door here, the dhampir opened it up to reveal a rather dark space. Eve quickly went inside with the other worldly visitors slowly entering and wondering what the place was.

Such things soon became clear when Eve pulled a lever where a litany of clicking sounds echoed throughout the chamber.

In mere moments, blue lights began flickering on to relatively brighten up the place, revealing the heart of the Belmont Hold.

"Magic lanterns!" Arya exclaimed in awe and wonder.

Alucard laughed, shaking his head. "Lightning. Not magic."

"You put lightning into lamps and you tell us it's not magic?" The Stark girl accusingly asked.

"Not really magic, but science." Says Cait Sith.

"Indeed." Alucard comes closer to Arya and Gendry with Eve following behind. "The Parthians on this World were storing lightning in jars a little over 1600 years ago."

"And what is this place?"

"This is the true Belmont Hold. The final repository of a family who spent generations learning how to do one thing: kill monsters."

"Does that include the Heartless and Unversed?"

"They are… relatively new to us." Alucard says, referring to himself, Sypha and Trevor. "But through Roxas, we've been archiving the information." The dhampir descends the flight of stairs with the others following. "Regardless, the Belmonts made it their lives, and wrote it all down."

For Alucard, he did wonder if the Heartless had come to this World at a previous time. Roxas had found the grimoire that was written by one Keyblade Master Ava within the Belmont Hold. As such it made him question the further mysteries of this World than what his father had stored in his archives.

Back with Gendry and Arya, the Belmont Hold made them think of the Citadel over at Oldtown in the Reach with how many books and artifacts there were stored there. The many stories about the one place where the maesters learn their craft and later assist the people and many Houses across the realm.

As for Cait Sith, he had to appreciate the place and made comparisons with the various archives he's seen in his life.

"So why have you brought us here?"

"Since you're on this World for the unforeseeable future, I want you three to know what lurks in the dark and how to defend yourselves from them." Says Alucard, referring to the vampires and night creatures. "Some more than others." He states as he focused more on the two Westerosi.

"Like with what? Weapons? Spells?" Arya looks over to the lamps. "Can you use lightning as a weapon? I know Roxas and Cloud can cast spells with lightning." She then glances over to Eve. "She can even use it as well."

The female creation merely grunts a little for confirmation.

Alucard nodded, holding his index finger and thumb. "True. But let's start small, shall we?"

"Of course."

"Sorry, Alucard. They are just worried about a lot of things." Says Cait Sith.

Gendry nods. "You're being incredibly kind, and we are very grateful."

"I know you're worried and so am I with a whole lot of things." Alucard states as descends the flight of stairs with the others following. "I want you to understand. I want to help share this knowledge with you so that you'll remember it and pass it on." A soft smile grace's the dhampir's face. "I think Trevor Belmont would like the idea of equipping a new generation of monster hunters."

"Even though we're not from this World?" The She-Wolf asked.

A nod was received. "It's better to have more people knowledgeable in the craft. After all, I was told by Roxas he helped train a lot of people in slaying Heartless and now the Unversed. So I think the same would apply in your cases."

Smiles were given with a new means of preparedness.

-Evening, the Red Keep-

"More wine?"

"I should not object." Says Lord Janos Slynt, holding out his cup for someone to refill it.

Janos Slynt was a butcher's son, and Tyrion thought he laughed like a man chopping meat.

It was a decent evening with the Lannister having a long awaited dinner with the Lord Commander of the City Watch. On the table was a nice assortment of cheeses, meats and fruits for them to dine on. Not to mention the wine.

One person walked over with a pitcher of wine and poured it into Janos' cup. Sadly it came out too much, causing some to soak Janos' hand. "Dammit boy!" Slynt shouted.

"Apologies, my lord." Says the boy as he wiped things up to a degree.

"Leave us, Podrick. I believe we can pour our own wine." Tyrion said as the identified Podrick nodded and left.

"Is he your squire? I could have gotten yourself a proper lad." Slynt said.

"Myself, I prefer the improper ones." Tyrion replies as he pops a grape into his mouth.

Podrick Payne, a member of House Payne's cadet branch and Tyrion's new squire. He's a tad quiet, shy and timid, which shows as he has a hard time making eye contact when conversing. However, he is generally a cheerful, kind and well-meaning young man who is eager to help those he serves. Something which Tyrion appreciates.

'At least he's far better than his cousin.' Thought the imp, thinking back to the late Ser Illyn Payne.

They never did find his body after what was reported. But the Lannister dwarf didn't mind as he didn't like the man all that well.

"Hmm, that's a good red. Dornish?" Slynt asks.

Tyrion nodded. "You know your wines, my lord."

"That I do." Janos gazes over the nice spread with hungry eyes. "A fine dinner, my lord."

"Call me Tyrion, please. I'm sure you're getting used to fine dinners now that you're a lord." Tyrion told him with a contained thought. 'Well, a lord in name only.'

Slynt nods as he chews on a bit of fine cheese. "Maybe I'll hire this cook of yours." Slynt jokes.

"Wars have been started for less." The two laugh rather lightly. "And I imagine it will soon come to our doorstep and the City Watch will need to be at their best." Tyrion said as Slynt took a sip of wine. "Not to mention the trouble in the city with trouble brewing."

"Yes. It has been a bit difficult, but we've managed."

"I'm sure you have. I've even heard of issues here and there in some areas with the small folk."

Janos sips more from his cup to wash down some of the food. "Hmm, nasty business. Had to be done to quell some riots."

"Yes, of course. The City Watch must keep the peace," Tyrion breathes out a sigh of frustration, "only I hadn't realized peace depended on killing bastards."

A bit of silence filled the room with the two looking at each other.

"Orders are orders." Slynt states with.

"Quite right. Especially the king's orders, given the rumors floating about."

"I don't listen to filth."

"That's good of you, but you have heard them." Tyrion's lips quirk slightly. "I suppose people who do believe that filth consider Robert's bastards to be better claimants to the throne than Joffrey."

Of course there was the whole business with Myrcella, but that's something else entirely.

"Joffrey is my king. The rest doesn't interest me."

"I appreciate the loyalty." Says the imp as Slynt drank more from his cup. "Tell me, when your men slaughtered the men of Ned Stark and Lewyn Martell in the throne room, did you give the order?" Tyrion asked.

"I did. And I would again. They were traitors. Ned Stark even tried to buy my loyalty." Slynt said.

"The fool. He had no idea you were already bought."

Hearing this got Slynt furious on the accusation. "Are you drunk?! I will not have my honor questioned by an imp!" Slynt said as Tyrion chuckled in response.

"I'm not questioning your honor, Lord Janos, I'm denying its existence."

Slynt harshly stood up from his seat in anger and hotly glared. "Do you think I'll stand here and take this from you, Dwarf?!"

"Dwarf? You should have stopped at imp. And, yes, you will stand here and take it from me, unless you'd like to take it from my friends here." Tyrion said as Slynt turned around and saw Bronn and Cloud standing behind him, with neither of them having made a sound of their presence. Not to mention Nanaki, who was situated some feet away. "I intend to serve as Hand of the King until my father returns from the present conflicts. And seeing as how you betrayed the last Hand of the King, well I just wouldn't feel safe with you lurking about."

"What are you… my friends at court will not allow this! The King himself-"

"You're a fool to think he's your friend." Says Nanaki, startling Slynt greatly.

"I-It can speak?"

"I definitely can."

It was by this point did Tyrion gesture to Podrick to have some men come into the room; more specifically four City Watch guards. Each closed in and made sure Janos wouldn't leave quite easily.

"These fine members of the City Watch will escort you to the docks where you'll board a ship leaving for East Watch by the Sea. Don't worry, you'll be accompanied by a nice company of men who aided you in your little betrayal. From there I'm afraid it's a rather long walk to Castle Black. I hope you enjoy the Wall. I found it surprisingly beautiful… in a brutal, horribly uncomfortable sort of way." Tyrion jested.

"These men will make sure you get on the ship." Cloud said as his eyes bore into Slynt.

"Oh yes, the streets aren't safe at night. Especially as of late." Bronn adds in.

Janos looked furious upon hearing this. "These men are under my command!" He looked towards the City Watch members and barked out an order. "I command you to arrest these men and slay this beast!"

Unfortunately, neither of them moved a muscle.

"I don't think so. Effectively as of several hours ago, you have been relieved of duty." Tyrion said with a small smile.

Janos attempted to move and flee, but he was knocked down by Cloud with a well placed punch to the gut. Slynt wheezed from the pain as he nearly toppled over with Bronn hoisting him up.

"If you boys wouldn't mind…"

Hearing Bronn's "request", the City Watch members escorted Slynt out who struggled against their grasp. "I have friends at court," he grunts out. "Powerful friends! The king himself made me a lord!" More was basically heard as Slynt was dragged out, but it was all ignored.

As if anyone -let alone Joffrey- would exactly care for Janos. No one would really miss him.

"One less mess to deal with." Says Nanaki.

"Quite so." Tyrion grabs a plate of fruit and meat and lowers it enough for his furry friend to eat from it. "Still more to follow."

"Now who will replace Slynt?" Asks Cloud while Bronn took a seat and sipped from some wine.

"My niece will find someone capable and competent in the role."

About twenty people were slain on Joffrey's orders, all which were carried out on Janos Slynt's command on recent events. It's not just then, but at the time of Ned Stark's apparent "coup" with Lewyn Martell. As a result of this, Janos, a number of the City Watch and others were being sent to the Wall.

As such, Tyrion coordinated with his niece to officially relieve Janos of his duties. Now she'll find someone appropriate to fill in the spot as the Lord Commander of the City Watch.

In a manner, Tyrion was keeping his word with Jeor Mormont in sending aid to the Night's Watch. Not just men, but more as well. Not to mention his part in delivering justice for Ned Stark and Lewyn Martell.

And with Janos being punished in taking the Black, all of his assets are now seized by the crown and will need to be worked out accordingly. This meant whatever remained of Harrenhal of its coffers, property and land were up for grabs. However, due to recent troubles, no one would want to maintain it anymore, let alone live there.

'Perhaps a meeting with the Iron Bank would suffice.' Tyrion thinks with a small frown. 'Definitely not going to be looking forward to it.'

"I would've thought you'd have Cloud or Bronn take the position." Says Nanaki, once washing down some food from a bowl of water Podrick provided not long ago.

Imagining Bronn being the Lord Commander of the City Watch would be difficult in Tyrion's mind. He was a sellsword who wouldn't really have the discipline to manage such duties. Cloud, however, would perhaps be like a second coming of Daemon Targaryen. The Prince who made the Gold Cloaks a competent and efficient force back then.

"I would have, but I doubt either would accept." Cloud nods while Bronn shrugs in response to Tyrion's comment. "Though I'd request their assistance from time to time."

"You'll have to pay me more for that." Bronn states, eating some cheese.

"I'd be more focused on my present tasks." Cloud informs the Lannister. "It'll be a bit hard to find time to whip them to proper shape."

"A pity."

-Radiant Garden-

"Ned?"

"Hmmm?"

The woman with haunting violet eyes giggled at his reaction, brushing her hand on his cheek.

"You're staring again." Ashara Dayne said with an amused smile.

The Lord of Winterfell could only return her smile with a half-hearted strained one.

"I find it difficult not to." Ned Stark admitted freely. "For nearly two decades, I had long thought you to be dead but here you are, without a speck of a wrinkle, more beautiful than I remember and with our daughter. How can I not?"

The woman faltered, her face contorting into a faux-pained expression.

"Oh Seven Hells," She whispered, feeling her entire face and body heat up at his words. "Damn you, Eddard Stark."

She threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around him in a searing kiss he didn't have the strength or desire to resist. They ignored the overdramatic retching coming from Allyarra Dayne.

He wanted to feel guilty. He should have.

But he remembered the conversation he had with Oberyn Martell when he and his family first came to King's Landing. How after all these years, even with the life and family he had built with Catelyn, he still loves Ashara Dayne.

And for her to be alive and in his arms…

He was a man of duty, honor and responsibility. When it came to doing what was right over his personal desires, Ned was a man who would choose to do what was right.

But when it comes to those he loves so fiercely like his sister, like his brothers, his children and… Ashara… what can a man like him do?

"Mom~ do you have to do that everywhere we go now?" Allyarra complained, Ashara pulling back with a girlish giggle at the dazed state of Ned.

"When you are reunited with the man you love and who gave me you, you'll understand." She softly said, leaning her head against Ned's shoulder.

The Stark Lord could only give Allyarra an apologetic smile, his daughter half-heartedly returning it. Seeing that made Ned's heart swell slightly, hoping that this is a sign of better progress with her.

Allyarra was kind and polite for the most part since meeting her but there was a level of distance that she maintained. He understood her hesitation, given that all she had ever heard of her father were stories from her mother. So to be able to meet her father, the reaction he got was not what he was expecting.

Privately, Ashara explained to him that Allyarra had long desired to meet him but after so many years, she had come to "accept" that she would never get that chance. Now, after him literally dropping into their lives, Allyarra was conflicted on how to approach this matter.

Her mother could tell how desperately she wanted to bond with her father, to get to know him and his home but there's something that's holding her back. What that remains a mystery as the girl had been tight lipped when her mother asked.

Despite that, Ned was making some progress. Small moments here and there but as a father of six, now seven, he could see the walls she had up slowly being lowered.

It was in the little things, just complimenting her eyes, wanting to learn about her interests, small conversations, building that bridge.

And whenever Ned wasn't with Allyarra, Ashara practically smothered him and by smother, it was time that Ashara had been desperate to reclaim. And by reclaim, mostly in the bedroom that took Ashara only a day to break down Eddard.

He loved Cat, truly he did… but again, Ashara Dayne… she was meant to be his and he hers. They promised to be wed back at Harrenhal and pledged themselves to each other at the Heart Tree where Ven was also witness to something that still made the Falling Star laugh. Even Ned couldn't help but be amused at what was one of the most embarrassing moments in his life. A different lifetime ago where he wasn't as jaded and hardened as is now.

Being with Ashara brought back some of that old fire and frankly, the Stark Lord had stopped trying to fight it. He had spoken with Ashara about Catelyn and his family that he had built with her but the Violet-eyed woman cared not. It was in his loyalty and love to his family that only reminded her of how much she still loved him.

There was a time where she felt betrayal and hurt at his marriage to the daughter of Hoster Tully but time a perspective always teaches and opens the eyes of those willing to see what was present and obvious to see. Ned had no choice. It was either no alliance with the Riverland Lords or the Rebellion may have ended far more drastically than what transpired.

"How are you enjoying Radiant Garden, my love?" Ashara sweetly asked and the Westerosi Lord took a moment to take in the World again.

"I'm… still coming to terms with where I am. Everything about this place, the architecture, the," Eddard conveyed his wonder. "Technology, as they call it. It's beyond anything back in Westeros. And for everyone to benefit from it."

"It truly is a wonder." Ashara wistfully said with a reminiscent smile. "I remember when I first arrived here and how it took some time to assimilate to it."

"Hard for me to imagine." Allyarra remarked sheepishly. "Being born into it and all."

"Then I shall need your help to further get acclimated to all this." Ned stated, a hopeful tone with his daughter giving him a half smile in return.

Ashara reached out to take her daughters hand, giving it a grateful squeeze, approving her decision.

Ned felt an overwhelming feeling of contentment in all this, a rare sensation that he had only when he was with the entirety of his family. He felt his heart clench at the thought of Catelyn and the kids, his mind developing a storm of negative thoughts of just what was happening to them right now.

Cat and the boys… he could at least have some comfort in knowing they were back in Westeros but that was replaced with the ever present danger they now might be in. Last he remembered, Robb had gathered the Northern Lords and was marching down to free him, Cat was likely with their son. He didn't know how Bran was fairing and Rickon was still a young boy. Jon was… with the Night's Watch. A decision he made that Ned was starting to regret ever since he last saw him. Lyanna would have killed or throttled him if she had seen where he let her boy go off to.

Then there was Sansa and Arya. They were with him when he was nearly executed and the entire world became shrouded by darkness. He recalled seeing a light strike him, the one he surmised being the reason he wound up here in Radiant Garden.

Ned prayed to the Old Gods, the New and whatever Gods there may be here on this World that his daughters were alive and safe, wherever it is they are.

The man had been so absorbed in his thoughts, he failed to see two men going down the same path they were on.

"Ah, Dilan, Aeleus." His first love cheerfully greeted, making Ned blink and look up at the two men.

Eddard couldn't help but be awe slightly by one of them, the one with the slicked back ginger-hair. The man was absolutely massive in height and frame, possibly rivaling that of the Mountains. The other with the unique black hair was also imposing yet lesser than the one he was with.

"Ashara." Dilan calmly greeted whilst Aeleus eyed Ned.

"Who might this be?" Aeleus' voice was low, with a small rumble as he gave Stark a curious gaze.

"Someone quite close I take it." Dilan commented, noting the proximity of the two.

"Very," She stated. "Dilan, Aeleus, this is Eddard Stark or "Ned" for short. Allyarra's father."

Both men blinked, their eyes widening considerably, looking between Eddard and Allyarra in open surprise.

"Truly?" Aeleus muttered.

"Yes, he is like me. From another World, the same in fact."

"You come from another World?" Aeleus asked, the man in question slowly nodding.

"And when did this happen?" Dilan inquired.

"Quite recently." Was Ned's response.

"Has your world fallen?"

"Fallen?" That word troubled the Wolf Lord. "I… don't know. I hope not. All I recall was a wave of Darkness and Roxas-"

"Roxas?!" The two men exclaimed.

"You know Roxas?" Dilan nearly demanded.

"He's alive?!" Aeleus stepped forward now.

Eddard was startled by this sudden shift with Ashara and Allyarra mirroring his reaction.

"Y-yes… I take it you know him." Ned surmised rather than ask.

"How… How do you know that name?" Dilan asked, reigning in his shock.

"He has been with me for some time. He came to my World a number of months ago and has been protecting Westeros and my family since coming there."

The two men reared back, glancing at each other before they both nodded.

"There are some people you need to speak with." Aeleus declared. "Please, if you would come with us. This is of great importance for us and yourself."

Ned turned to Ashara for confirmation and she appeared equally as confused as he was. Still, she nodded all the same. Allyarra was also curious given that she's never seen these two react in such a manner.

Whoever this Roxas person was must be clearly important.

Traversing through the streets to the central castle of Radiant Garden, the two guardsmen escorted Ned and co. to a particular location.

To the Stark, the chamber was relatively large and made completely out of metal with various shaped pieces of glass which appeared to glow. He saw the lone occupant of the place was working on a table with some equipment which the Westerosi couldn't make heads or tails about.

The man had dark silver hair which covered part of his face, who wore primarily white clothing with a royal purple cloth tied around his neck.

"Ienzo."

"Ah, Dilan, Aeleus." The identified man greeted cheerfully. "Oh? And who might this be? Ashara, Allyarra, lovely to see you both as well."

"Hey Zo," Allyarra happily said. "You're gonna get a real kick out of this. This here's my dad. Eddard Stark."

Ienzo's eyes widened. "Truly? This is your father?"

"Yup." She said with a small squirm.

The man gave her a bright smile. "Well then, this is a wonderful development. It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stark. Your daughter is a dear friend of mine. We knew each other when we were younger and after all that transpired, I was grateful to have been reunited with her."

Hearing all this made Allyarra blush considerably, now banging her fists on the scientist in a comedic scene.

"Zo~~ don't say something like that!" She whined, bewildering the man.

"What? What did I say?"

"That whole dear friend stuff!"

"Are we not friends?" Ienzo was thoroughly thrown off.

"We are but… Ienzo~~~!"

Dilan raised a brow at this while Aeleus found himself huffing in amusement at the pair.

Ashara smirked knowingly, leaning over to whisper into Ned's ear.

"She is so much like you,"

Ned, catching on to what she meant, blushed slightly, giving Ashara a look.

"What? I wasn't like that."

"No, but she is your daughter." She teased. "Even if the behavior is different, I still see you in her. Not acting on her feelings as she should. She's disappointing her Dornish heritage profoundly."

"Ashara," Ned warily said. "I would rather have it that my daughters virtue is protected until a proper man comes in her life."

"Well, you don't need to look any further. Apparently, a proper man has appeared. And Ienzo is a wonderful young man. He is one of the most brilliant minds of this world and he isn't a slouch when it comes to defending himself." Ashara assured him, making Ned gaze at his daughter interacting with Ienzo, the man having appeared to have calmed the firecracker down.

Seeing that they had settled down, Ienzo now faces Ned.

"Now, tell me what is the reason for your visit. I take it that you have something important to tell me."

"Correct." Dilan said. "It has to do with Roxas. He's alive or rather, he's not with Sora."

Ienzo's jaw dropped, looking at him, then Aeleus and finally Ned.

"Really? Is this true?"

"Yes." Aeleus slowly said. "Eddard Stark here has met him and has been in contact with him for a number of months now."

"Truly?" Ienzo whispered, looking to the Wolf Lord for confirmation.

"He has. Roxas has been with me and my family for some time now. He's become a very dear friend to me."

"Astonishing…" Ienzo murmured. "This changes everything we thought we knew or understood about Sora's condition. We knew they were able to coexist, but…"

"Sora…" Ned parroted. "Roxas mentioned that name to me. He spoke of how he came from him, whatever that means." The Stark Lord then made an inquisitive look. "Tell me, how do you know Roxas? It is clear that he is someone quite important to you as well."

Ienzo, Dilan and Aeleus looked at each other before the youngest of the trio gave the response. "We… used to be in Organization XIII with him."

Ned was obviously not expecting such an answer and Ashara was equally as surprised. By Allyarra appeared to frown slightly, giving Ienzo a sympathetic gaze.

"...What?"

Dilan spoke to clarify things as he pointed to himself and his fellow Apprentices. "We bore the names Xaldin, Zexion and Lexaeus respectively."

Hearing those names in particular brought shock and a guarded reaction from the Stark Lord.

"But… you three… Roxas told me you were dead."

"We were, for a time." Aeleus stated.

"And we are not with the Organization anymore. Xemnas has no hold of us anymore." Ienzo assured. "Now we are students of the Heart, exactly the same as we were before everything happened."

This only confused Ned further.

"I imagine Roxas told you of the Heartless and Nobodies, yes?" The silver-haired man asked.

Ned made a face, clearly conveying he knew but it was still something he hasn't fully grasped as of yet. "He has, but it's still hard to swallow; especially the latter. But what does that have to do with how you are here now?"

"When some… individuals had defeated us, we reformed after a time." Ienzo elaborated.

"Reformed? How is that possible?" Ned queried.

"I still don't understand it." Ashara murmured, having heard this from Allyarra in the past.

"We had wondered the same thing, but we had come up with a theory. As you may know, when one falls to darkness, they become a Heartless. But if one's will is strong enough, the person's shell becomes a Nobody. However, when both halves are destroyed, it's possible they "recomplete" to become who they once were."

"...That's awfully confusing."

"Tell me about it." Allyarra mutters.

"I have a theory and it is one that is very theoretical and very much in the realm of pure speculation is that when a person loses their Heart to darkness, creating both Heartless and Nobodies, I believe that this is an unnatural break in the natural Order of the Worlds. Those whose Hearts that have been stolen away by the Darkness indicates that them being taken is a disruption in the natural order. In other words, it was not yet their time. Their hearts would have to pass on eventually but it was, you could say, interrupted by forces outside their control. Thus, when a heart is freed, the Heartless and Nobody is destroyed, the original being is returned because their time has yet to occur." Ienzo stated. "At least, that is only a working theory. For all we know, we may never get the proper truth. Only theorize and hypothesize."

A migraine felt like it wanted to form in the Stark lord's head. So much of what was said was hard to piece together given how philosophical this all was.

Before things could continue on the one discussion, there were some new arrivals.

"Ienzo," Spoke another male voice.

Said scientist turned to the voice, Ned and the others doing the same.

"Ah, Leon, Aerith, Yuffie," The silver-haired man greeted with a smile. "Perfect timing. Where is Cid?"

"Right here," The aforementioned man came in from behind the trio, huffing slightly. "You three need to respect your elders. I ain't as fast or spry as I used to be."

"Oh please Cid, we were barely ahead of ya. You've just been sitting at the computer for too long. Ya gotta get your legs some exercise." The Black-haired woman chattered teasingly, turning to the others "Hey everyone. Lyarra, where have ya been? I haven't seen you all week."

"A recent development has taken up all my time." The girl idly responded, nudging her head in the direction of her father, who was approaching the newcomers with a surprised look.

"Can we help you?" Leon asked with a raised brow.

Looking at the four, the Stark lord more or less was able to recognize them.

"Leon, Aerith, Yuffie, Cid." Ned listed off the names. "Cloud has spoken of you."

"Cloud?" Aerith perked up slightly. "You know Cloud?"

"I do. He's a good friend."

The slightly wheezing old man squinted at the Wolf Lord until he released a small huff.

"Well I'll be. So you're Ned Stark." Cid remarked. "He spoke of you as well. Not too long ago."

"Oh right, he matches his description." Yuffie said with a dramatic point to him. "Old-timey clothing, long sword and grey eyes!"

"You've spoken with Cloud?" Ned asked in surprise. "How?"

"Got a device made." Says Cid. "Long story short, we're able to converse across the worlds with 'em."

"A device that communes with others across Worlds?" Ned muttered. "How is this possible?"

"It's the magic of science, son." Cid cheekily said. "Also gummi-tech."

"It seems you two are the same age, Cid." Aerith observed with a giggle.

"Are we? I can't tell."

"You can speak with Cloud right now?" Ned quickly said.

"Yeah sure we… we…" Cid patted his belt and then slapped his face. "Crap. Forgot the Gummiphone back at the base."

Yuffie let out a dramatic sigh. "Cid~~~"

"What?" He defensively said. "You guys rushed me."

Ienzo chuckled, going over to the Gummiship builder, patting his shoulder. "Worry not, Cid. I have my own, remember?"

"Oh… right."

Before the builder knew it, Ned was all but in front of him with desperation in his face. "Tell me, what is happening with my home? I must know-"

"Yeah, I figured that out."

"Oh Ienzo, may I borrow your Gummiphone later?" Ashara asked. "Mine still needs some repairs and it has been a while since I last spoke with Elia."

"Yeah, I bet Aunty Elia would love to hear what's happened recently. Rhaenys and Aegon too. Wonder what they've been up to."

Ned froze on the spot, not believing what he just heard.

"I… you… what did you just say?" Ned's voice was barely above a whisper.

"What?" Allyarra was thrown off by her father's sudden change in demeanor.

"Elia…" He managed out. "Elia Martell. The Princess of Dorne? The one who was killed by the Mountain, that Elia Martell? And her children? Rhaenys and Aegon?"

Ashara slowly realized what he meant and she gaped, a blush of embarrassment now appearing on her face as she opened and closed her mouth a few times.

"Oh… Oh right… I… forgot about that tidbit up until just now." She murmured, looking down as though she were a scolded child.

"Ashara," Ned took hold of her shoulders, causing her to look up and flinch at the gaze he directed at her. "Elia Martell is alive? And you didn't tell me?"

The Falling Star was now thoroughly mortified, covering her face to hide herself from all the others who were now confused as to what was happening but remained silent in all this.

She tried stammering out some kind of response. "It's just… I was… you being here… we were more focused on us. I just wanted to make up for lost time and-"

"Ashara!" Ned interjected, slightly hysterical in a comedic fashion. "Don't you know what their deaths caused in Westeros?! How it is still having an effect on the Seven Kingdoms?! Dorne still wants to tear apart those who rebelled and aided Robert in becoming king!"

Ashara was now fretting about, trying to calm her love. "I know, I know, I'm sorry, truly I am."

The others stood by and watched the scene play out with Cid seemingly producing a small bag of popcorn.

"This is like some soap-opera stuff." He quipped, tossing a piece into his mouth.

"No kidding." Says Yuffie, grabbing some popcorn as well.

"Should we do something or…"

"No, let's let them sort this all out." Aerith patiently said. "We have much to discuss to begin with."

-Morning, Dragonstone-

"You'll have your gold when we take the treasury at King's Landing." Says Ser Davos as he and his son -Matthos- were walking alongside one Salladhor Saan on one of Dragonstone's sandy shores.

"All these lords and kings are fighting for the throne, and Stannis has the smallest army." Speaks the infamous pirate. "Why would I bet on the man with the worst chance?"

"Because you're a smart gambler." States the former smuggler. "Stannis has proved himself in war twice. His baby brother -however- has never set foot on a battlefield. Neither has the false king Joffrey."

"And yet they both have larger forces. Not to mention Joffrey having a more defended territory."

From what Davos had learned as of late, Kings Landing is getting cleaned up as it were. Tyrion Lannister is the acting Hand of the King, who is mitigating much to prepare for invaders. The walls are high and strong with scorpions stationed here and there, yet the men manning and defending them are too few and too green. And what the former smuggler heard, it's becoming difficult with the chaos slowly brewing within its walls for a whole number of reasons.

There was no Keybearer there to help defend the city, much less quell the masses with his presence and influence. So with him gone, things were relatively easier if they were to strike soon.

Yet the question remained, how long would Stannis and his forces hold the city once claiming it?

"Stannis has just begun the fight. His bannermen will rally to his cause. There's no man in the Seven Kingdoms more honorable than Stannis Baratheon. Or more worthy of loyalty."

Salladhor hums a little with a small roll of his eyes. "What is the world coming to when smugglers must vouch for the honor of lords and kings?"

"Mind your words, pirate."

Davos snaps his head over to his son. "Matthos."

The pirate looks over to his old friend with a smug look on his face. "You think I'm insulted?" He shifts over to the man's eldest son. "I am a pirate. I'm an excellent pirate. I don't sail for promises."

"Of course you do." Davos interjects. "Every time you leave harbor, you're leaving on a promise- a promise that somewhere on the sea, somebody's got some gold and you can take it from him."

Saan's smug grin went wider. "That's a promise that always comes true."

"As is mine. You're not a young man, Salladhor. And correct me if I'm wrong- most pirates don't grow old."

A chuckle escapes the pirate's lips. "Only the clever ones."

Davos gives a small smile in turn. "You want to spend your last few years on the sea stealing from Pentoshi cheesemongers and Meereenese silk merchants?" He throws his arm towards the waters. "Then go. They're out there waiting for you. That's easy. What I'm offering you is hard." He looks upon his old friend in the eyes. "Come with me and plunder the greatest city in Westeros. You'll be the richest man in Lys and the most famous in what you've contributed. They'll be singing songs about you as long as men have voices to sing."

The pirate thought it over for a bit as a smile grew on his face. "Salladhor Saan" is a good name for songs."

"It is, if done right."

"One thing, though."

"Which is…"

"I want the princess."

"...The princess?"

He better not be talking about Shireen-

"Princess Myrcella, I want her."

…That's perhaps a bit worse, to a degree.

"I'll sail with your fleet, all thirty of my ships. And if we don't drown at the bottom of Blackwater Bay, I will fuck that blond princess and I'll fuck her well."

If Cersei was still alive, Davos would've imagined Salladhor would want her instead.

Davos was going to speak up on his thoughts towards his old friend's request when his son beats him to it. "This war isn't about you. We're not attacking King's Landing so that you can rape the princess Myrcella."

"I'm not going to rape her. I'm going to fuck her." Salladhor clarifies to Matthos.

Davos' son was bewildered on this, not really seeing a difference. "As if she would just let you."

"You don't know how persuasive I am." The pirate made a teasing grin. "I've never tried to fuck you." Matthos stepped away as a result when Salladhor reached out slightly. This got the pirate to laugh a little.

"Stannis Baratheon is the one true king. The Lord of Light's chosen-"

Salladhor releases a groan that was building up within his chest. "I've been all over the world, my boy, and everywhere I go, people tell me about the true gods. They all think they found the right one." He steps over to Matthos, who backed away slightly as before. "I've even heard the tales of the god that reached this island, more specifically of its herald with their Lightbringer. I mean, you've heard the tales, yes?"

Oh Davos indeed has. Some in passing over the years. More so now with the arrival of Lady Melisandre to "rekindle" the dwindling knowledge.

Years and years ago when darkness lay heavy on the world, a great hero was called upon where he needed to forge the weapon to turn the tide. To oppose the darkness, this hero needed to have a blade like none that had ever been.

For thirty days and thirty nights, Azor Ahai labored sleeplessly in forging a blade in sacred fires. Yet when he plunged it into water, the steel burst asunder. Again he began. The second time it took him fifty days and fifty nights, and the sword seemed even finer than the first. Azor Ahai captured a lion, to temper the blade by plunging it through the beast's red heart, but once more the steel shattered and split.

Great was his woe and great was his sorrow then, for he knew what he must do.

A hundred days and a hundred nights he labored on the third blade, and as it glowed white-hot in the sacred fires, he summoned his wife, Nissa Nissa. He requested her to make the ultimate sacrifice, which he knew it was the biggest price to make. She willingly accepted it and allowed her husband to thrust the smoking sword through her living heart. It was said that her cry of anguish and ecstasy left a crack across the moon, but her blood and her soul and her strength and her courage all went into the steel.

Such is the tale of the forging of Lightbringer, the red sword of heroes which drove away the darkness.

"I do not need a reminder, old friend."

Hearing this response, the pirate turns to Davos' son. "To me, the one true god is what's between a woman's legs, and better yet, ones belonging to a royal." Seeing Matthos move away, he looks back to Davos. "I never thought you'd have a true believer for a son."

"Eh, he's young yet." Shifting in his spot, Davos ran a hand through his short hair. "I promise you the gold. I promise you the glory. I -however- cannot promise you princess Myrcella."

Silent for some moments, the pirate speaks. "You believe your king can win?"

"He's the one true king."

Salladhor scoffs. "You Westerosi are funny people. A man chops off your fingers and you fall in love with him." The two laugh at the small joke between them, even though it was more or less true in one's perspective. "I'll sail with you, Davos Seaworth. You're the most honest smuggler I ever met. Make me rich."

"Get me to the gates of King's Landing and I will."

The two shook hands with the pirate returning to his men so he can begin preparations with what's to be done.

With it just them relatively alone on the beach, Matthos approaches his father. "When will the king have us sail?"

"As soon as his god wills it." Says Davos as they were making their way back to the keep of Dragonstone.

"He's my god, too, and yours, but you are too blind to see." Matthos sees his father sigh in slight frustration. "Let me teach you how to read."

"Oh, you and your mother."

"It won't take long. You already know the letters. The holy books are much more persuasive than I can be."

"I wish I had a god, truly." Davos sees his son was about to argue, but he interrupts him. "I'm not mocking you, but I've seen men pray to every god there is: pray for wind, pray for rain, pray for harvest, pray for home. None of it works."

"But you always came home."

"I wasn't praying."

"No, but I was." Matthos sees his father not believing in such matters. "Every night that you were at sea, I lit a candle and I prayed for you alongside the rest of us."

The former smuggler looked at his son this time. "You want me to have a god? Fine. King Stannis is my god. He raised me up and blessed me with his trust. He gave you and your siblings a better chance at living than I ever could've imagined. You know how to read. You'll be a knight someday. So tell me, you think a fire god commanded all that?" He shook his head as they neared the horses and ready to saddle on up. "It was Stannis, only Stannis."

"Stannis is my king, but he's only a man."

Davos snorts in turn. "Don't tell him that."

-The Red Keep-

Having meals with his niece was becoming more frequent as of late. Sure it was mostly for work instead of typical pleasantry, but it was the best way to coordinate without interference from certain individuals.

"Joffrey was having a bit of a fuss earlier."

"When doesn't he?" Came Myrcella's sarcastic remark.

The imp smirks ever so briefly. "This time around, it's mostly towards my decision to send Janos Slynt to the Wall without his permission."

His Niece tapped her chin in thought. "I'd imagine you were able to advise him to reconsider."

He huffed in amusement. "I have, which took time to make it successful; among other things."

The princess hums a little as she soon eats a piece of bread. "I do wonder what will be overturned once grandfather takes back his position from you."

"I can think of a number of things. Slynt won't be one of them." Tyrion cuts a little into his dish. "Speaking of…"

"I was able to find a proper replacement: Ser Jacelyn Bywater." Myrcella took a sip from her goblet and informed her uncle. "Lost his hand at Pyke during the Greyjoy Rebellion; reason how he got knighted."

"Interesting trade."

"In a fashion, yes. He's been captain on the Mud Gate for three years now. Rather well liked by his fellow Cloaks and even the small folk, yet has been overlooked for promotions to better placements in years prior."

"I can imagine Slynt didn't like his favoritism and withheld his advancement. He'll be good to help mend what was damaged." The acting Hand sighs from exhaustion. "We're losing the people, however, no thanks to Joffrey. We're barely grasping their allegiance with Cloud on our side."

With Roxas gone, among several others who genuinely helped keep the peace, it was much harder to keep the small folk's issues in check. Cloud's presence, however, can only go so far.

"Once Winter comes, half will be dead while the rest will plot how they'll lop our heads." Tyrion continues. "With Joffrey's thugs, he gave them a rallying cry: "The King who murders babies". He basically doesn't even have the decency to deny it."

Myrcella sat in silence, merely looking at her food but not really focusing on it. "I don't know if they'd spare me."

Tyrion gave his niece a worried look. "You're the Realm's Delight, my dear. You're Roxas' betrothed."

"Former betrothed." She bitterly corrected him. "Joffrey saw to that."

Sighing at the bitter reminder, the dwarf honestly doesn't know what to do in this situation. It's a complicated matter with the essential embarrassment done upon the princess of the realm.

"I don't know if Joffrey intends to marry you off to someone to gain their allegiance."

"I doubt he even knows the proper workings." Says Myrcella, having them chuckle and laugh in their own right. "Then again, he doesn't really care what others think."

"Clearly. Never really took it seriously."

"Until recently, in a struggling fashion. He's trying and failing spectacularly as he's never had the proper lessons."

There was a session of petitions done before he sent out the order to kill Robert's bastards. Joffrey wanted to play "nice" with the small folk, especially with one sheep herder, on lowering some costs for food given the recent shortages. He attempted to work it out, but Joffrey quickly got frustrated and passed on the issue to Tyrion to resolve as he stormed out of the throne room. Of course, with Myrcella present, she decided to step in and assist her uncle on the matter.

As a result, Myrcella gained more favorability whereas Joffrey's declined.

Silence filled the room for some moments as the uncle and niece continued to eat. Eventually Tyrion brought up a matter that swam through his mind. "If it weren't for the bad tides with Dorne, I'd seek to have you sent there until things settle."

"And I'd gladly take it." Myrcella says with bitter admittance. "Any means of getting out of this gods' forsaken city."

Ideally the Westerlands was perhaps the safest location for any Lannister. However, making it over there would be nigh impossible at this point. It would be too long by sea with the possibility of being caught along the way being extremely high. By land is even more hazardous with brigands, Heartless, Unversed and other forces out and about.

The only other safe place which came to Tyrion's mind was Dorne.

"Have you written to them? You were forming a friendship with a few of them if I recall it right."

The Baratheon princess has forged a decent relationship with the Martells since meeting them for the first time. It was initially cordial as a means of hopefully mending what her father did at the end of his rebellion. Gradual as it was, Myrcella was successful in making a good friendship with Oberyn's daughters and even Princess Arianne, the next leader of Dorne.

However with Lewyn Martell and a number of their men dead, Dorne has a good amount of animosity towards them; just like many others.

Seeing the lack of response from his niece, Tyrion speaks. "Have you tried?"

"Joffrey forbade me from sending any out. Him believing anything I'd write to my friends there would be a slight against his rule." She drinks more from her cup, not dainty sips but more like chugging its contents down nearly all in one gulp. An action which reminds Tyrion of Cersei. "With things as they are, whatever letters I'd possibly send would probably be ignored."

Silence filled the room once more with Tyrion wanting to cheer up his niece, but had a hard time doing so with her present feelings on the one situation.

"We are puppets dancing on the strings of those who came before us." Tyrion said to his niece. "I can believe your mother wouldn't have wanted you to endure such problems."

"Yet here I am."

"And yet here you are. But would you want to dance on another's strings or dance on your own?"

Myrcella was quiet, digesting what her uncle said.

With the Game of Thrones, you win or you die.

It may be literal or may be figurative. Regardless, the concept remains the same. How you may live or die in a particular fashion.

She perhaps knew her parents didn't want her involved in the Game. It was hard to tell at times. After all, she was the princess and had to stay with the norms while her brothers had to be raised to eventually take the Iron Throne.

Yet things changed in drastic proportions. Outside forces had affected her in ways she couldn't have imagined.

As such, she's now thrust into an uncomfortable position.

She can't have the luxury of being an ignorant piece on the board anymore. She'll have to become a player.

It'll be unfortunate for her from here on out.

In order to live and survive with the new norm, the girl she is now needs to die.

"And what would I need to do, uncle?"

Tyrion looks at Myrcella all so sadly with several things in mind.

-Dragonstone-

Inside of the Room of the Painted Table, Matthos and his father were looking over various details and planning Stannis' next moves. Their actions came to a halt when the doors opened with their king walking on in with the Red Priestess following not far behind.

"Your grace." Father and son say nearly in sync.

"How did you fare with your pirate?" Stannis questions the former smuggler.

"Salladhor Saan will join our fleet- thirty ships." Davos informs his king. "His men know how to fight."

"In my experience, pirates prefer fighting unarmed men."

"...It does seem a wiser choice."

"There won't be a choice this time." Says Stannis. "Do you trust him?"

"Salladhor Saan is an old friend. I've known him for thirty years. I've never trusted him, but once he gets the smell of gold, he never stops."

The Baratheon nods a little on being informed a bit more. "Well, if he does his job, he'll have his share." He looks away from Ser Seaworth and focused on Melisandre, who he notices she has something to say to him privately. "Leave us."

Davos looks at Stannis before the Red Priestess, making him unsure on the matter. Yet he concedes. "At once, your grace."

Both Davos and Matthos make way to leave the room, yet halt when Melisandre steps in front of the latter. "The Lord of Light shines through you, young warrior." She says with a smile before leaning into his ear and whispering into it.

It was hard to discern for Stannis and Davos, but whatever was said shifted Matthos' mood to some degree.

It wasn't long when both father and son left did Stannis ask the one question on his mind. "What did you say to him?"

"I told him death by fire is the purest death."

"Why?"

"Because it is true." The Red Priestess gazes upon her god's chosen. "You're troubled, my king."

"I am."

Walking around the Painted Table, Melisandre gazes about the pieces situated on nearly every corner of it. "These armies are toys for the Lord of Light."

"Tell your Lord to burn them, then." Stannis all but snaps. "Along with these accursed Heartless and Unversed."

"I tell him nothing. I pray for his commands and I obey."

A small growl emanates in Stannis' throat. "My little brother has 100,000 men according to the scouts' last report. Men whose allegiance rightly belongs to me."

"You must have faith."

"Faith?" He questions, mockingly. "In a real war, the side with the greater number wins, nine times out of ten."

"Then we must be the tenth. More so with what the Lord of Light has gifted you."

This only got the Baratheon a bit more frustrated. "I cannot defeat my brother in the field. And I can't take King's Landing without the men he's stolen."

He recalled back on the night he made his declaration. He recalled Davos' words to Melisandre that those of the Red Faith of Essos have plenty of ships to provide. Not just those seafaring vessels, but what was implied of the man power who could greatly turn the tide. Without them, his strength was greatly limited to what was essentially provided here in Westeros.

"I have seen the path to victory in the flames. But first, you must give yourself to the Lord of Light."

It was at this point did Stannis all but snap at the Red Priestess in utter frustration. "I've said the words, damn you. I've even taken up this Keyblade you bequeathed me with as I've burned the idols of the Seven. Yet nothing has come as a result."

The Keyblade became a great symbol of power, not just to Westeros but perhaps to the rest of the known world. Since Ventus made his appearance in Harrenhal, anyone wielding such a weapon gained much influence in so many ways. Many lords throughout the realm got quite the reminder when Roxas arrived and greatly unsettled the typical norms. Most certainly as of late given the tales coming all the way from the Riverlands with the great tree of Harrenhal to the Red Moon.

It was honestly a large surprise the Priestess of R'hllor had a Keyblade in her possession. One which she intended to give to her lord's chosen. A part of Stannis believed it was a hoax, but much of him was desperate in order to claim what was rightfully his.

Melisandre moves to his side as she slowly unfastens her gown to reveal much of her unblemished flesh. "You must give all of yourself."

Looking at the priestess for the briefest of moments, Stannis looks away from her captivating form. "I have a wife." He moves away from her and walks around the Painted Table. "I took a vow."

"She's sickly, weak." The priestess moves ever closer to the Baratheon with subtle sways of her body. "Shut away in a tower. She disgusts you." Stannis did his best to ignore her, but she didn't let up with her verbal assault towards his wife. "And she's given you nothing: no sons, only stillborns, only death."

She was wrong. His wife did give him a child, his daughter. However, things were rather complicated with Shireen.

Stannis intended to move away, but halted when Melisandre whispered all so sensually into his ear. "I will give you a son, my king."

"...A son?"

The Baratheon couldn't recall what eventually caused his restraints to falter and his discipline to crumble. It was as if some influence washed over him to make him swiftly lusting after Lady Melisandre. All he could recall was throwing her onto the Painted Table, unfastened his pants and inserted himself into her warm depths as he eventually unleashed his seed inside of her wanting womb.

-Evening, Beyond the Wall-

Sitting by the fire, Jon was doing much to keep himself warm as he had the one night watch. He was growing tired and wondered when it'll be time for him to switch out with one of his compatriots.

Hearing some footing some distance away, Jon's focus quickly shifted. Looking behind him, he saw the vague depiction of Crastor walking past the barrier to his home and heading towards the woods. With the present lighting from the forest and the faint moonlight, Jon saw the wildling was carrying a bundle in his arms.

'Is that a baby?' He thought in growing alarm.

Curiosity got the better of him, making Jon leave his post and investigate.

Moving past the barrier, Jon ventured into the woods and followed after Crastor. He did his best to remain unnoticed, but there was so much he could do with the freshly fallen snow that more or less crunched with each footstep.

After some time walking, Jon could hear the baby's warbling some distance away. It was more prevalent when he soon realized the rest of the forest became suddenly quiet. Something far more disturbing than the typical norm.

'Something… Something ain't right.' he thought with growing dread.

Seeing movement in the limited moonlight, Jon ducked behind a tree and just in time too when Crastor came walking back towards his home.

After awaiting for some moments, Jon was about to break out of his cover when he heard the sounds of a baby crying mixed in with ice clicking and clacking. His eyes dilated as a result, making Jon bolt and run towards the source all the while drawing Longclaw out of it's sheath. In the process, his other hand felt warmer as he was unconsciously drawing magic into it and readying it for what may come.

'I need to get there!' Jon thought with growing purpose. 'I need to get there!'

The baby's cries grew louder when almost got to his destination. He almost reached it when he tripped or perhaps slipped, causing him to tumble in the snow.

Rushing to get up, he saw who… or rather what was taking the baby away. It was hard for Jon to see it's depictions, but he could see their bright blue eyes.

Jon would've acted and went in for the attack if he didn't feel someone grasp his shoulder. Turning back, the bastard of Winterfell saw Crastor there and punched him right across the face where he was met with darkness soon after.

-End Chapter-

AN:

To be honest, I've been working on this chapter for a long while. Would've had this out sooner if it weren't for the Prince of Persia chapters. Not to mention needing to figure out in including and changing some content from the source episode in GoT season 2 episode 2.

FMW: Really, we just wanted to get that out of the way so we can get to the scenes and chapters we've been dying to get to for this season. And me being a diehard devotee of Ned and Ashara, the more chances I get to write their scenes, the happier and stronger I get. Plus, so much fun interactions and conversations to come now that Ned has met the Restoration Committee and the former members of Organization XIII.

Jeb: Not to mention some set ups for the upcoming chapters, given a lot of stuff will be altered and switched about. And soon will get onto a particular chapter which free and I are really excited to get into for several reasons.

Anywho… Recent stuff came out.

The trailer for Castlevania Nocturne season 2… damn… I'm so happy with how it came out and can't wait for the season to come out in about a month. Gonna be very inspirational for what's to come in this story.

FMW: Plus 28 Years Later trailer which legitimately has me extremely excited.

Jeb: Sonic 3 comes out next week so that'll be something to look forward to.

FMW: Kraven and War of the Rohirrim… both sucked so the less we talk about those two and acknowledge their existence the better.

Jeb: The Video Game Awards happened recently and there was… varying results. It was somewhat okay. Sadly a lot of the stuff brought up on it was sadly boring, which is highlighted when the two iconic Muppet critics made their surprising appearance to practically voice our collective annoyance.

However… there was a number of highlights. One of which is Elden Ring Night Reign… The other being the Witcher 4… oh damn I… am at a loss for words.

FMW: As for me, how in the blue, ever loving fuck did a puny bot beat out the Monkey King? Black Myth Wukong is the best game of the year! Either the Game Awards are rigged are Astro Bot is legit that good. I'm leaning more on the former. Seriously, just how? Meh, whatever, we all know Monkey is the real king of games this year. Plus Statler and Walforf unironically were the best parts of the show. They need to be there again next year with more moments.

Anyways, be sure to review this story guys! Would like the criticisms. Please and thank you!