A Song of Fire, Ice and Hearts

by Jebest4781

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

46. What is Dead May Never Die

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

"Speech"

'Thoughts'

Writing/Singing

"Foreign Language/Flashback"

-Scene Shift-

Chapter 46: What is Dead May Never Die

All was relatively quiet within Crastor's Keep. Many were falling asleep or already sleeping by this point in time. The only sounds that were present were several murmurs or the occasional snore with the crackling originating from the firepit.

All was well…

*BAM*

Until the front door to the building was harshly burst open.

Lord Jeor Mormont was the first on his feet and looked at the source. There, lying face first on the ground, was a member of the Night's Watch. A moment later, Crastor stormed in with a fierce scowl on his face.

"Out, all of you." He barked out, startling the men at this sudden declaration.

Jeor looked in confusion and voiced the obvious. "What's the meaning of this?"

"Bastard's been meddling where he shouldn't!" Says the wildling, kicking the fallen Night's Watch member, causing him to turn.

When the action was met, the fallen brother turned with a grunt. The firelight helped reveal the slightly bloody face of Jon Snow.

Looking back, Jeor saw Crastor walk over with Longclaw in his hand with the wolf's head pommel aimed towards him. "I want you and your men gone." The wildling shakes the sheathed Valyrian sword slightly at the Lord Commander. "And you will make this right."

By this point, Jon got onto his feet and spat a lump of blood and spit from his mouth. Before the Bastard of Winterfell gets the chance to speak, Jeor interrupts. "Wait outside."

"Lord Commander-"

"NOW!"

Jon relents, all but stomping out of the wildling residence.

Soon enough, Jeor had given out the order to the rest of the Night's Watch to begin packing up. It'll take some time but by sunrise, the whole company will need to be ready to mobilize and leave the premises.

With everything somewhat settled, Jeor made his way out and searched for his squire. It didn't take long as he found him being treated by Samwell Tarly.

When the pair saw his approach, Jon and Sam stood at attention with the latter addressing him. "Lord Commander-"

"Leave us."

Sam looked between Jon and Jeor for a moment before realizing the commander had given the order to him specifically. Nodding, he left.

With just the two of them now, Jeor voices the question that quickly plagued his mind. "What did you do?"

"I followed him." Began Jon. "He took the baby into the woods, the newborn."

"What business is that of yours?"

Jon inhaled sharply, at first not registering the tone in the Lord Commander.

"No, you don't understand. He's killing them, all the boys. He's murdering them. He's-" States the squire before he stopped. He expected to see a look of horror and worry on the commander's face. But much to Jon's shock and dismay, there was something else. "You know."

There was a look of shame on Jeor's face as he couldn't exactly look Jon in the eye. "The wildlings… serve crueler gods than you or I." It took a moment for it to happen where Jeor saw Jon's eyes breaking slightly. "Those boys are Craster's offerings."

"Offerings?" Jon spat out. "He's murdering his own children. He's a monster."

"Aye, many a time that monster has been the difference between life and death for our Rangers. Your uncle among them." Jeor revealed, having his squire look on in disbelief. "We have other wars to fight out there. Like it or not, we need men like Craster."

This was utterly hard to digest, let alone accept. Even after some moments of silence, Jon spoke. "I saw something else. I saw… something take that child."

"...Whatever it was, I daresay you'll see it again." Says Jeor. "Now ready my horse. We ride at dawn." He then all but shoves Longclaw back into Jon's arms, but in a more calm manner. "Don't lose it again."

With the Lord Commander walking off, Jon was left alone to begin digesting everything that happened within a short period of time.

Yet his mind kept going back to what he saw in the woods. Something took Crastor's baby. Something which bore bright blue eyes. Something far more unnerving than the two revived members of the Night's Watch who he and Ghost fought against back at Castle Black.

For Jon, for some moments, he wondered if the saying "Let the Others take you" isn't merely a simple Northerner curse.

What if the tales Old Nan used to speak of were in fact true?

-Morning, Winterfell-

Long before the first pale fingers of light pried apart Bran's shutters, his eyes were open.

The reason why he was awake at this early hour wasn't from nightmares and the like. In fact, slumber was easier for him now, in a sense.

He still had his dreams of perhaps being Summer. Hunting out in the woods, running with such exuberance while feeling the taste of blood in his mouth from a fresh kill.

There were, of course, the other dreams.

Beforehand, he'd be plagued by a pestering Three-Eyed Raven who wanted him to fly in a particular manner all before Namine appeared and "shooed" him away. From there, he'd occasionally see Jon and chat on how things were.

Now the pesky bird pestered him no more. Namine said she took care of him with assistance of an… associate of hers. Bran found it odd with how she sounded it. But at the very least it was one less worry for him to deal with each night.

Though with the bird out of the way, Bran mustered the courage to ask why the peculiar raven kept wanting him to fly in a forceful manner. She explained it was to make the young Stark boy awaken something from within him, but in a route that would've spelled his own doom.

This bit of detail wasn't what really unsettled Bran from his time of sleep.

No, the real issue was the guests in Winterfell. They were visitors who came relatively for the Harvest Feast. Something his House hosted for generations.

Once that prospect would have filled him with excitement, but that was before… everything.

Instead of having the joy of a child, he must play Lord of Winterfell in his father's solar.

Bran had never asked to be Warden of the North. It was knighthood he had always dreamed of; bright armor and streaming banners, lance and sword, a warhorse between his legs. The dream evolved further with Roxas' influence of being a warrior, a huntsman in slaying the Heartless when he was big and strong enough.

Yet the fall from the Broken Tower all but robbed him of such dreams. Such desire, let alone his love for climbing, became muted as he just didn't know what he really wanted to do with life. It was even worse with him having to waste his days listening to people speak of things he only half understood.

'It's because I'm broken.' Was his sorrowful thought. 'Not in body, but in spirit.'

After who knows how long tossing and turning in his bed when trying to sleep once more, a soft rapping of his chamber door occurred. Before Bran got the chance to speak, it opened.

Looking at the source, he saw his mother give a soft smile.

"How are you, my son?"

"Alright, I suppose." He replied though his voice said otherwise, something Cat was quick to pick up on.

Her heart clenched tightly at seeing her son in such a state. She bemoaned and berated her past self for always admonishing and scolding her hyperactive son for his activities and mischief and now, all she prayed for was to just see one faint glimmer of how he used to be.

The Stark matriarch, along with Ser Rodrik Cassel, arrived with Lord Wyman Manderly from White Harbor days ago. With them came a long trail of retainers, all aglitter with banners and surcoats in what seemed like half a hundred colors. Bran had welcomed them to Winterfell from his father's seat before he and his little brother Rickon were quick to embrace their mother.

It was a tender moment many didn't want to interrupt.

The acting lord of Winterfell hoped this was the end of things where he could somewhat return to being a child again. He would not have minded. Unfortunately, it would not happen all that well.

Despite his mother being here, the responsibility of being the Lord whilst Robb and his father were absent still fell upon his shoulders.

Therefore, he had to continue his duty. Thankfully, the load was lightened at least now with more of the House being back under the same roof.

His mother, like Maester Luwin, would assist and counsel him. The same with Ser Rodrik Cassel like how he did so with Lord Eddard Stark.

When their mother made her return, she was all but clinging to them. Bran couldn't fault her, given what news reached them from the South.

Their father was gone and so were their sisters while Robb was marching to avenge them and more. People say they weren't gone but held captive at the Red Keep as incentives while there were those who say otherwise.

After all, Roxas was there. If anyone could save their family, it would be him.

And speaking of Roxas, there was also what occurred in Harrenhal.

He had already seen and within his dreamscape, Bran had experienced much. But from what has been told about the events that transpired at the old ruin was almost too fantastical to believe.

Yet when one now looked up at the night sky, the sight of two moons in the sky, one that everyone recognized and one that was as red as the Targaryen banner, all but confirmed the events of Harrenhal. The Legend Roxas had accumulated for himself in the short amount of time he had been here in Westeros had eclipsed his predecessor Ventus in the eyes of many.

By the time this generation of Starks, Lannisters, Tyrells and so on were dead and buried for a hundred years, Roxas' name would be echoed eternally after, likely to be mythic in status.

"Lord Stark."

Hearing his name slightly jolted Bran out of his thoughts, turning to Maester Luwin who gave him a kind pat on the arm, a small apology for startling him.

"Yes, what is it?"

Moving aside, Luwin showed another familiar face to the Stark boy, having him brighten up in a sense.

A raven came from White Harbor stating Jory Cassel finally returned from the south. He couldn't exactly recall how long ago it was. Everything seemed to blur these days. It also stated he'll return to Winterfell post haste so he could assist in what he could, given the last orders he had from Ned Stark.

He just didn't expect him to be here now.

"Jory Cassel, welcome home. It is good to see you." Says the acting Lord of Winterfell, a genuine smile gracing his features. "When did you make it back?"

"Just this morning, my lord. It's good to be back after so long." Jory gave Bran a bitter frown. "I am sorry that I wasn't there to protect your father and sisters. Please forgive me."

Bran shook his head. "There is nothing to forgive. I cannot fault you for following my father's orders."

Jory had a strained but grateful smile at these words.

"I'll be sure to resume my duties here at Winterfell."

"First some rest is in order, Jory." Bran stated. "You've traveled a long way back here and I would want one of our finest warriors to be properly well-rested if he is to resume his duties."

Off to the side, Ser Rodrick had a glimmer of approval in his eyes alongside Maester Luwin and Cat smiled at her son's words. Even though he was the second son and fourth child of Eddard and Catelyn, he conducted himself as any of their children would when the responsibility as Lord of Winterfell were on their shoulders.

"Of course. As my lord commands." Giving a curt nod, Jory departs to leave Bran be with his mother, the maester and the Master-At-Arms.

As Bran was getting out of bed, his mother seemed to have to ruin the bit of pleasantry to start out the day. "I heard from Maester Luwin you were having issues with our guests yesterday."

The boy didn't hide his frown, looking at his mother. "I don't like the Freys. Big and Little Walder were insulting Hodor. They mean to have japes, but they didn't sound like them to me."

Catelyn mirrored her son's expression. "They shouldn't. This isn't how a ward of your brother's should act like, especially those who are vassals of House Tully." She sighed. "Though you were right to defend Hodor, you should've done it better in addressing it as such. You are your brother's heir and the Stark of Winterfell."

"Don't remind me." He grumbles.

His mother placed her hands on his shoulders in a comforting manner. "I know. Heavy this burden is. But you are not alone. Now finish getting dressed. We must break our fast. Rickon is undoubtedly getting impatient."

In the great hall where a number of people began to have their breakfast, there was a small assembly of sorts.

Joining Bran, Rickon, their mother, Ser Rodrik Cassel and Maester Luwin was Lord Manderly and Lady Hornwood.

Despite wanting to join in on the morning meal, it seemed Lady Donella desired to have her petition done almost immediately today.

Unlike Lord Manderly when arriving in Winterfell, Lady Hornwood brought no tail of knights and retainers; only herself and six tired men-at-arms with a moosehead badge on her dusty orange livery.

Lady Donella was a pale husk of a woman, every line of her face etched with grief. Her husband, Lord Hornwood, had been killed in battle down South by a contingent of Heartless and Unversed. Their only son was cut down at Harrenhal, apparently by the hand of Ser Jamie Lannister.

"Lady Hornwood, we are very sorry for all you have suffered." Says Bran. "Winterfell will remember."

"That is good to know." Says Lady Donella. "I am very weary, my lord. If I might have leave to rest, I should be thankful."

"To be sure." Says Ser Rodrik. "There is enough time to talk at a later hour, if it's fine."

"Yet I have words which I wish to address. Bolton's bastard is amassing men at the Dreadfort." She warned them. "I hope he means to take them south to join his father and the rest of the Northern army. Or at the very least joining the patrols for these ghastly Heartless. But when I sent to ask his intent, he told me that no Bolton would be questioned by a woman. As if he were trueborn and had a right to that name."

Lord Manderly hums a little. "Roose has never acknowledged the boy, as far as I know. I confess, I do not know him."

"As do I." Says Ser Rodrik.

"Few do." Replied Donella. "He was brought into the Dreadfort when young with his mother's passing. Not many really paid much mind to him until recently when Domeric had died by a Heartless attack, leaving Roose without an heir." She sips from her cup before speaking more. "This Ramsay Snow is a sly creature from what I wager. He even has a servant who was referred to as Reek of all things. It's said he never bathes. They hunt together, and not for deer or other game. I've heard tales, things I can scarcely believe, even for a Bolton. And now that my lord husband and sweet boy have perished, the bastard looks at my lands hungrily."

Bran wanted to give Lady Hornwood a hundred men to defend her rights, but Ser Rodrik only said. "He may look, but should he do more I promise you there will be dire retribution. You will be safe enough, my Lady. Though perhaps in time, when your grief has passed, you may find it prudent to wed again."

"If possible, I would. I don't know if there are any likely candidates, let alone as I'm past my childbearing years." Donella gave a tired half-smile. "Yet men come sniffing after me as they never did when I was a maid."

"You don't look favorably on these suitors?" Asks Caitlyn.

"I shall wed again if Lord Robb commands it."

Bran shifts in his seat as he looks at Lady Hornwood. "I don't speak for my brother, but I believe he'd be fine with it if you wish."

With no direct heir, there were many claimants contending for the Hornwood lands. The Tallharts, Flints and Karstarks all had ties to House Hornwood through the female line. And the Glovers were fostering Lord Hornwood's bastard at Deepwood Motte. And though the Dreadfort had no claim, the lands were adjoined and Roose Bolton would not be one to overlook such a chance.

As for Lady Hornwood directly, she was a cousin of Lord Manderly. He wanted to help her as much as possible, but it can only go so far.

"You were born a Manderly, dear cousin." Says Lord Wyman. "Perhaps when your grief has run its course, you could be a Manderly again, eh? I am a widower for eight years now and it does get a little lonely. Or if you prefer the younger sort, my son Wendel is unwed as well. But he's currently south assisting Lord Robb with the war."

"I'll take it under advisement, cousin." Says Donella. She soon glances over to Cat. "Speaking of the war, is the Vale going to finally take part?"

With the forces of the Vale, they can greatly change the tide of battle with whatever side they align with. While that's easy to know on a normal front, it's harder to know these days with the Heartless. It was clear with how it occurred during Robert's Rebellion when their might was truly put to the test against the Unversed.

Catelyn gave her response. "By the time I left Gulltown, I've heard the lords were doing what they could to amass their forces."

"Oh? So have they finally decided who will take the seat of the Eyrie?"

"If the mutterings were true, they had come to the decision that the Royces will ascend and become the new Wardens of the Vale."

"Dreadful for what happened to the legacy of the Arryn's. More so for how it is with your ancestral House, Lady Stark." Says Donella Hornwood. "I am sorry for that."

Cat glanced down at that, her fists tightening to the point that her knuckles turned white. She trembled slightly at the memory of her sister's betrayal but steeled herself, managing to reign in her emotions. "It… will be a dark mark in our history."

Bran frowned and recalled how news traveled quickly, even though it was carried by raven.

He never met his Aunt Lysa or his cousin Robyn. Only heard occasional tales but nothing more. Yet he could never have imagined the two would be part of what ends of a great and noble House that dates back thousands of years.

"What will become of your sister and her child? Clearly Lady Lysa would be sentenced for the crime while her boy would be sent to the Wall-"

"They are dead." Catelyn said bitterly and sorrowfully, surprising Lady Hornwood. "Rodrik and I learned of it by raven when we reached Gulltown. My sister convinced the goaler to let her and her son go. By the time the guards realized what happened, they found Lysa and Robyn at the Moon Door. Before they could stop her, she took her boy with her. She was mad with what the letters said. She sought freedom and thought the Moon Door was the best option in her mind for escape."

Donella awkwardly shifted in her seat. "Well… they're free now and with the gods to decide their fate in the afterlife. Though what of Baelish?"

It was Ser Rodrik who answered, looking rather crossed. "He was given a royal pardon by King Joffrey."

Manderly's cousin shook her head in displeasure. "I can imagine the rest of the Vale is in an uproar. They'll want vengeance for what he'd done for Jon Arryn's death and bloodline theft."

"Is there anything they could do?" Bran innocently asks.

"Since they can't get their hands on him, they might as well get their hands on the Fingers and break them." Maester Luwin says, both serious and jokingly.

"I'd imagine so." Says Caitlyn.

The morning meal eventually came to an end. Soon enough, the time of petitions properly came, which Bran was obligated to be present for.

First came Lord Leadranach who needed his holdfast repaired, hopefully before winter comes. The last time it was mortered was during King Aerys' reign. And presently, at night, he and others could easily hear the wind through the walls. Now generally it comes to the head of the holdfast to take care of the issue. However, Lord Leadranach had sent the young men to be part of Robb's army. To resolve this, under advisement of Maester Luwin, Bran loaned Lord Leadranach four masons for a week to resolve the problem.

Next came other issues Bran more or less muddled together as they generally were about the same thing. Heartless present and needing some spare Huntsmen to resolve the issue. Conflicts with some commoner accusing another for some theft, which Bran had the person work off the debt instead of sending them to the Wall. So on and so forth.

Soon enough, a very common issue sprang up every so often for most of the day where it all resolved around the issue with the Hornwoods. Instead of going directly wanting to court Lady Donella for her hand in marriage, they went to Bran instead.

An uncle of GreatJon Umber came first. Next was Lord Tallhart who offered up his son, which Caitlyn told her son it was all under the guise of fostering in hopes of cheering her up from her time of grief.

Other suitors came and went, which bored Bran significantly on that particular situation with Lady Hornwood.

At least no one was trying to do potential courtships towards Lady Caitlyn. It would've been extremely awkward as news of Ned Stark's status was in the wind and all over the place if he was either dead or alive.

Whatever came next was mostly tuned out in Bran's mind as it was focused on other things. Mostly back on his family if they were well. It then drifted to the issue with the Ramsay Snow situation if he meant to gather forces to properly defend his Lord father's land from the Heartless instead of sending them southward. It's hard to say.

Such thoughts ended when snapped back to attention by his mother on some matter with supplies.

Lastly, around the time Bran was able to end the petitions for the day, he received word the two children of Lord Howland Reed would be coming to Winterfell for reasons that relatively flew in one ear and flew out the other. All that Bran could recall of the man was that was close with his father and aunt Lyanna to the fact he hardly left his home in many years.

The reason for it barely phased poor Bran as his mind was just exhausted from everything. He'll get a better process of it all once the Reed siblings arrive.

Being a lord, let alone an acting one, was not so tedious as Bran had feared, and he even had a few hours of the day to visit with Summer before having to see Maester Luwin for more lessons. But even then, the role was tiresome for a boy his age.

Within the Godswoods, Bran found relative peace. It was a habit Bran found himself taking up from his father, who did the same thing. Though for his present case, Bran liked to spend time with his wolf every day when the others allowed it.

Along the way to his intended destination, Bran glimpsed a lean black shape watching from the undergrowth, but Rickon's Shaggydog vanished as swiftly as he appeared. When refocusing on his path, he found Summer via a nice little bark before he made his appearance. Hodor was nearby, who gave a smile and a wave which Bran returned in kind.

Upon reaching the weirwood heart tree, Bran the neighboring pool. Ripples were running across the surface of the water, making the reflection of the tree ripple and dance. There was no wind though, and for an instant Bran was baffled.

"HHHUUUAA!"

And like that, Osha all but exploded from the pool which surprised Summer, Hodor and Bran on her appearance. The young Stark boy patted the simple minded stablehand and direwolf to calm them down before looking back to see Osha rub and wash off whatever dirt and grime she collected for a time.

"Osha? What are you doing?"

"What's it look like, little lord?" She cheekily said, flicking water off her hands.

The boy was thoroughly bewildered by her appearance, looking at her, then at the pool and back.

"How can you swim in there?" Bran asks her. "Isn't it cold?"

Osha shrugged, seeing goosebumps on her skin but not shivering in the slightest. "As a babe, I suckled on icicles, boy. Besides, the cold here is nothing like what lies beyond the Wall. As of now, this kind of cold doesn't bother me."

Bran tilted his head. "Why were you in the pool and not with the regular baths?"

"I wanted to see if I could touch the bottom."

The young Stark blinked, glancing at the water. "There's a bottom?"

For all his life, Bran only assumed the pool was relatively shallow. He never wanted to go in as he didn't want to disrespect the place.

"It's deeper than you'd think, surprisingly." The wildling woman looked at the Stark boy queerly as she got out of the pool. "What are you staring at? Never seen a naked woman before?"

"I have so." Bran had bathed with his sisters and mother a lot when growing up. He'd even seen serving women in the hot pools. Osha was different, though, hard and sharp instead of soft and curvy. Her legs were all sinew, her breasts flat as two empty purses. "You've got a lot of scars."

Osha nods as she squeezed the water out of her hair. "Every one is hard earned."

"Fighting giants?" There was a slight tinge of childish wonder mixed with fright at the thought of her facing off against such beings.

Osha claimed she'd seen giants beyond the Wall among other things Bran heard Old Nan used to talk about.

"Fighting men." She began drying off the rest of herself with some cloth. "Black crows, oft as not. Killed me one, too." From what Bran realized, she was looking healthier than the first time he'd met her. No doubt from a slightly warmer climate, having better meals and the like can do wonders for a person. "Heard some yattering in the kitchen today."

"About what?"

"Stories of the south. Your brother's war is spoken more often these days. Wish there was more variety as I'm getting bored."

Bran can only roll his eyes in response.

-Pike, Iron Islands-

Entering the private dining chambers of the Sea Tower, Theon looked about as he somewhat waited for a servant to come in so he may have a late breakfast. Sadly no one came to do as such.

Instead, someone else came in which he wasn't entirely fond of seeing at the moment.

"Asha."

Hearing the stern addressment towards her, the daughter of Balon Greyjoy cocked an eyebrow. "Are you angry with me, brother?"

"You lying bitch." Well, that certainly answered her question.

His sister shrugged with an unbothered look. "It's not my fault you didn't recognize me."

This earned her a crossed look from her brother. "Recognize you? How could I? The last time I saw you… you looked like a skinny little boy with pimples."

Asha smirked in response. "And you were a fat little boy. But unlike you, I recognized you." She then pats her chest. "And of course my pimples were replaced by nice breasts."

Theon's face contorted in anger and shame for several moments. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wanted to see who you were first." She laughed. "And I did. Someone who seemed lost and didn't know his place."

"I know my place." He snapped back and he saw her raise a disbelieving brow.

"Brother, surely you are mistaken. Your place is at Winterfell." She takes a look at his attire and several bits of jewelry on him. "And where are all your pretty clothes? I heard you fancied silk and velvet against your skin. Though it seems you make up for that with what else you're wearing."

Theon knew those were lies, in a fashion. They were merely his sister's jabs to get a reaction out of him.

Sure he liked silk and velvet against his skin, but only when in the pleasure house alongside the furs. Outside of there, he doesn't see the point at all.

As for the rings, the necklace and other items he wore, they were for protection. The other Ironborn may laugh at them, but he'd have the last laugh when they least expect it.

Before he could even voice his passing thoughts, the siblings heard a series of steps coming to the family dining chambers. Looking at the open doorway, they saw their father and uncles coming in.

"The plans are made. It's time you heard them." Said their father as he soon walked past his children.

"Father." Asha and Theon greet him, but he paid them no mind. Well more likely focused more on his daughter over his son.

Victarion merely grunts at his brother's children whereas Aeron nods ever so slightly.

Approaching the dining table, Balon placed down and unfurled a map of Westeros. "The wolf pup has gone south with the entirety of the Northern army at his back." His hands soon motion to certain areas of interest. "While he's tangling with the Lion in the Westerlands, the North is ripe for the taking. The Ironborn will reave and pillage as it was in the old days, all along the Northern coast. We'll spread our dominion across the green lands, securing the Neck and everything above. Every stronghold will yield to us one by one. Winterfell may defy us for a year, but what of it? The rest shall be ours- forest, field and hall."

Looking at the map and recalling what his father spoke, Theon tried to say something. "Father, I have concerns-"

"When I require your counsel, I shall ask for it." Balon stubbornly says to Theon. He then focuses on his daughter. "Asha, you'll take thirty longships round Sea Dragon Point. Land upon the tidal flats north of Deepwood Motte. March quickly and the castle may fall before they even know you are upon them."

Asha smirks. "I've always wanted a castle."

Theon had to bite his tongue. Deepwood Motte was the stronghold of the Glovers. With both Robett and Galbart warring in the South, it would be lightly held. And once the castle fell, the Ironmen would have a secure base in the heart of the North.

"And what's my role in all this?" Theon questions.

Balon all but scoffs. "You'll take eight ships to raid the fishing villages on the Stoney Shore, sinking any ships you chance to meet. It may be that you will draw some of the Northern lords out from behind their stone walls. Aeron will accompany you, and Dagmer Cleftjaw."

Theon felt as if he'd been slapped. He was being sent to do reaver's work, burning fishermen out of their hovels and raping their daughtrs, and yet it seemed his Lord father did not consider him to do anything sufficiently beyond that.

Bad enough, he'd have to suffer Aeron Damphair's scowls and chidings. With Dagmer Clefjay along as well, his command would be purely nominal.

That is, if he'd actually want to take part in this.

"Be grateful I convinced your father to give you eight." Victarion spoke up, his tone snide and condescending. "He originally wanted to give you just one ship."

"One?"

"The Sea Bitch." Says Asha. "We thought she'd be perfect for you."

Theon's lip and nose twitched in aggravation at the blatant disrespect.

"Victarion, the main thrust shall fall to you." Balon says to his one brother. "When my children have struck their blows, Winterfell must respond. You should meet small opposition as you sail up Saltspear and the Fever River. The Neck is the key to the kingdom. Already we command the western seas. Once we hold Moat Cailin, the pup will not be able to win back to the North… and if he is foolish enough to try, his enemies will seal the south end of the causeway behind him."

Theon scowled but withheld much of it. "A bold plan, father, but the North-"

"What of it? Their lords have gone south with the pup." Balon interrupts his son. "Those who remained behind are the cravens, old men, and green boys. They will yield or fall."

Aeron soon speaks with praise. "May the Drowned God bless our swords. And the waters of wrath will rise high, and the Drowned God will spread his dominion across the green lands!"

"What is dead may never die." Says Victarion.

"What is dead may never die." Chorused Balon and Asha.

Theon, however, says nothing. Something which the others noticed.

"Oh? Is something wrong with my plans, boy?" Balon says with a slight sneer.

"Father, I fought with Robb Stark. I know his men. He won't give up the North so easily."

"They won't even know we're there until it's too late." Asha dismissed. At this point, Theon actually had the gaul to snort in mild humor, something she clearly didn't find amusing. "Something funny, brother?"

"You don't know what's really happening in the North, sister." Theon then focuses his attention on his father and uncles. "Clearly none of you know it's people in these past months. Time and time again, I've proven myself to be a warrior."

"Your brothers were warriors, both of them dead at the hands of those you seem so eager to protect." Says the head of House Greyjoy.

Theon looks towards his father and responds. "Maybe I am, maybe I'm not. But you all would be highly unprepared for what would await you there. Besides, why risk going against the North if they would be our allies? Rise up against them and they could destroy us. But if we assist them, we'd receive-"

"What are our words?" Balon interrupts. Not hearing a response, he repeats. "Our words?"

"...We do not sow." The other Greyjoys said, Theon joined them yet his voice was barely above a murmur.

Balon nods. "We do not sow. We are Ironborn. We're not subjects. We're not slaves. We do not plow the fields or toil in the mine. We take what is ours." His gaze narrows at his son. "Your time with the wolves has made you weak."

Controlling his breathing slightly, Theon felt old wounds and emotions surface. A subject he'd kept buried for years.

"You act as if I volunteered to go. You gave me away, if you remember." He jabbed his finger in his father's face. "The day you bent the knee to Robert Baratheon. After he crushed you. Did you take what was yours then-?"

What Theon sought to say next was silenced when Balon gave him a backhanded slap. Theon stayed in place and hardly moved from his spot.

In a surprising action to everyone else in the room, Theon snapped, rearing his fist back and punching his father in the throat, causing the man to surprisingly fall back and bang against the wall all the while grasping his neck and choking on air.

Victarion sought to move, but was halted by Aeron. The Drowned Man shook his head and motioned to listen. Asha, however, was too stunned at the recent action.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP AND LISTEN!" Theon roars at his shocked father, grabbing him violently and shaking him, the man's eyes drastically widen on what his son did. "You gave me away! You did that! Your boy! Your last boy! You gave me away like I was some dog you didn't want anymore. And now you curse me because I've come home. Ignoring what I'm trying to say, all because you're too stubborn, too prideful to admit you're outclassed by everything."

Asha soon got up to Theon's face with a snarl. "You'd have our father bow down to your other family?"

Her brother soon turned his focus on his sister, causing her to halt.

To the others in the chamber, they seemed to think there was a small trick from both the candlelight and morning light seeping through the windows. With how it seems, Theon's eyes seemed to brighten ever so slightly as he hotly glared at them all; especially to his sister of all people.

It oddly unsettled them.

"I want to save our people from what he," Theon shoved Balon back, who was still silent in shock, "seeks to do with the North. Because a danger resides within its borders that's barely contained there. Something which you are so ignorant to pay attention to."

For some time now, Theon wondered if it was a miracle the Heartless threat within the North didn't accelerate with what's happening as of late.

"Sooner or later, by our people's stubbornness, we will die if we do not change."

Theon doesn't give Asha or the others the chance to have the last word in as he storms out of the dining chambers. He was no longer hungry with what he was feeling right now.

The rest of his family were merely taken aback significantly on how much Theon possibly changed.

No longer was he the small and scared little boy they once knew. Now he was hardened.

-The Red Keep (?)-

She was having another dream again. Relatively the same as many times before.

How she kept having the perception of her precious Lady of all beings.

Don't get her wrong, she was fine with it. Seeing her princess in each of those dreams was good in seeing how she's fairing with her absence. Though she wouldn't mind the change up of dreaming about Roxas.

She still wondered why she was having such dreams in the first place if they were merely her imagination or something else entirely.

After all, it was strange for Sansa to have the relative taste in her mouth of particular foods that were meant for dogs and wolves instead of regular people. Not to mention the peculiar scents.

"Come on, girl. Let's take you for a walk."

Out of Sansa's own volition, her perspective shifted in a manner as she moved alongside Myrcella. She didn't have much control at all this time as Lady moved alongside her current companion.

She did see Jeyene Poole, who was appearing a bit better with the loss of many fellow Northerners.

Before long, Myrcella had a handful of castle guards around them. With the added protection, they walked through some halls of the Red Keep before winding up by the gardens.

"Lord Baelish."

"Your grace."

Sansa practically saw Littlefinger having a cane now. It made her recall Arya being the cause of that at the Sept of Baelor.

Instinctively, Sansa made a growl out Littlefinger, who flinched slightly. Part of her wondered if it was more on Lady's part or her own volition.

The princess kneels down slightly, rubbing the direwolf's head in calming her down. It did work, but the unsettled feeling was still present.

"I wonder if I might ask you for a favor." Myrcella says soon after.

"Of course, your grace."

"If we choose to negotiate with the Starks to free my uncle, we'll need proper incentives to make it happen." Says the princess. "Well, you know what they say about Lannisters and debts."

"Are you referring to yourself as a Lannister now?"

"I have Lannister blood in me just as Baratheon."

Petyr hums a little, but more of pondering in thought. "Well, if you're perhaps trying to find something to exploit, you may ask Lord Varys. He'll probably have an answer for you. Whether you believe it or not, that's up to you. To be quite frank, your grace, I have always had a hard time trusting eunuchs. Who knows what they want?"

Myrcella chuckles a little before spotting something on Baelish's person. "A mockingbird." She says, inspecting the little pin on the man's attire. "You created your own sigil, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Appropriate for a self-made man with so many songs to sing."

"I'm glad you like it." Was Petyr's response. "Some people are fortunate enough to be born into the right family. Others have to find their own way."

The princess gives a brief nod of understanding. "I've heard a song once. It told of a boy of modest means who found his way into the home of a very prominent family. I didn't pay much mind to it at first, until I heard of it again some time ago. It depicted that he loved the eldest daughter who sadly had eyes for another."

"...When boys and girls live under the same roof for so long, awkward situations can arise. Sometimes, I've heard, even brothers and sisters develop certain affections. And when these affections become common knowledge, well, that is an awkward situation indeed; especially in a prominent family. But prominent families often forget a simple truth which I've found."

"And which truth is that?"

"Knowledge is power."

"Of course." Myrcella says with a small frown. "Knowledge changes a lot of things. Especially history. There are at least two versions of it. The one written by the winners and the one hidden by the losers. However the other version is what lies in between."

"And why's that, princess? If the losers' tale is lost, how could it be found?"

"That's the trick, Lord Baelish. You just have to look hard enough. After all, would you find it more interesting to know what the other side of a tale is like? For instance, another perspective to the modest boy and the prominent girl story is when the youngest daughter had affections for the boy and was ignored until a particular point in time. After… a series of nights, she became enthralled by the not-so-modest boy and did all that was asked of him; especially years later, all for his own gain."

In Sansa's perspective, she didn't know where her love was going on with this. However, things quickly changed with what Myrcella says next.

"Seize him."

At the moment's notice, the guards suddenly seized the surprised Baelish as he fought to free himself.

"Cut his throat."

One of the guards pulled out a knife and held it at Petyr's throat, earning a surprised look from him in turn.

"Halt." Myrcella says abruptly before giving off a little laugh. "Sorry, I've changed my mind. Let him go."

The guards indeed let Littlefinger go.

"Step back three paces."

The guards did so.

"Turn around and close your eyes."

Baelish looks around in confusion, none so more than directed towards the princess. Even Sansa -through Lady- bore the same reaction, but more of shock than anything else.

Breathing out a huff, Myrcella steps closer to the baffled Master of Coin.

"I agree with you, Baelish. Knowledge is power. Though power also comes from those who hold it. Either from wealth, prestige, faith, symbols, fear, respect. Yet I've seen real power. You have seen it as well as where it came from. From modest boys with genuine feelings and actions." Petyr meant to say something, but the princess interrupted him. "You know as much as I do, the power they wield has upset societal norms. Scaring everyone out of the established order of things. Sooner or later, all that chaos in the wind will rain down on those unprepared for the new age. And unfortunately, it's outright fair. Just like how a mockingbird would fly all so high, only to burn from flying too close to the sun."

Myrcella comes closer to Baelish, narrowing her eyes and all but growling with what she says next. "Take time away from your whores and actually do your damn job in fixing the realm. Joffrey may have given you leniency and a pardon for Jon Arryn's death and the blood theft for his House, but it will not last forever."

Without a proper notice, Sansa woke up.

Shifting in her bed, the Stark girl grumbles slightly as her mind is trying to make sense with what she saw.

Was it a dream or something else entirely? If it was a dream, then it was all too real for her taste.

If it was a dream, she wondered why Myrcella didn't give the real order to have Baelish killed. It would've been satisfying if it happened, bringing justice to many for those the Master of Coin had wronged.

While there was a part of her that was disappointed, another was relieved.

Relieved the woman she loves is still there.

Grasping her mother's necklace around her neck, the Stark girl smiles softly. 'I hope you'll still be the same when we all return.'

Throwing off the blankets she was under, Sansa stood from her bed and went over to a wardrobe of clothing, the materials in there finer and more comfortable than any she had worn before. Normally, she would wear something that only Nobles would wear and be assisted in doing so but after being shown how to do so herself, Sansa developed a new appreciation for being able to select any clothing of her choosing and putting it on herself.

Once done, Sansa left her room, just in time to see the sight of a line of brooms with arms holding buckets in both hands, marching down the hallway in a rhythmic, synchronized fashion.

What was bizarre to her when she first came to Disney Castle quickly became a common sight for her. She had already grown accustomed to the fantastical in a dangerous sense, seeing the Heartless and Unversed and all.

It was a nice change of pace to encounter magical beings that weren't all that dangerous.

"Ah, Sansa,"

The redhead turned to see Elia Martell and Queen Minnie with Lady Daisy Duck approaching her,

"Did you just wake up?" Minnie kindly asked and Sansa smiled and nodded.

"Perfect timing." Elia said. "Come along, we shall have breakfast together."

Sansa simply followed after them, the quartet breaking into idle chatter, touching on their duties while also fun and simple topics. The Stark girl easily fell into the conversation, chiming in where she could and listening attentively all the same.

It had become the new norm for her, being a ward at Disney Castle.

The four ladies passed by the throne room, two guards there saluting them as they passed by.

Instead of breaking her fast in the dining room, it was being done at the gardens today. A table had been set up with an assortment of foods and treats, some of which Sansa was still learning about.

'Pancakes.' Sansa immediately spotted, her mouth watering at the sight of them. 'Beautiful pancakes.'

It was astonishing how quickly those delectable pieces of flattened, doughy, puffy goodness became one of her favorite foods in her life.

As soon as they seated themselves, Sansa made no qualms about her desires, stacking three large stacks of pancakes on her plate, eliciting a giggle from Elia. The redhead at least blushed slightly but smiled sheepishly all the same.

"Like them, do you?" She lightly teased, making the red-wolf redden further. "Worry not, my dear, Rhaenys is the same as you with muffins. Aegon is shameless with his love of waffles."

Feeling less mortified, Sansa dug into her breakfast, humming along happily with every bite. It was a pleasant affair, the entire air of the garden just adding to the peace and tranquility to their meal.

Growing up in the North, having unique sweet meals was outright rare and only saved for special occasions. Coming to King's Landing, they became more frequent given the more available access to certain food sources.

But here, in Disney Castle, every single meal was as different and as delectable as the last. The amount of variety that Sansa had been exposed to overwhelmed her, not knowing where to start. And that was just the food side of things.

There were other things such as technology that blew her mind away and how the World was just so fantastical, the grandeur of the Castle unlike anything she had ever seen or read about. And everyone here was just so god damn kind and friendly. There wasn't an ulterior motive, no game to be played or falsehood that they kept up.

It was all genuine and true and so refreshing that Sansa nearly cried the first time she reflected on it. Only in Winterfell did she experience this type of behavior but even then, it was somewhat limited due to her being the daughter of a Warden.

Here it was all real and beautiful and she just wished she could enjoy this with the others who she dearly missed. The Stark girl felt a level of guilt at winding up in such a lovely place while wondering just where, if at all, did her father and sister end up with her knowing the worry and fear her mother and brothers must be facing.

And at the thought of her brothers, one in particular has been frequent on her mind, adding to the guilt.

Jon…

She had been awful to her half-brother, emulating her mother's worst traits of contempt and neglect for him when he never did anything wrong. Robb, Bran, Rickon and especially Arya, loved and adored him and she just… Gods, she was atrocious.

And now he went off to be a Brother of the Night's Watch.

Who knows when she'll see him again and worse if she'll ever see him again.

These introspective moments she had alone had been plaguing her more and more with every day she spent here.

The day was filled with wonder, laughter and learning and at night, it went from reflecting on a pleasant day to an unpleasant ordeal while falling asleep.

Who would have thought that thoughts would be so all-consuming like that?

Thankfully, right now, those thoughts weren't plaguing her mind right now.

She had finished breakfast and was now taking a stroll around the garden with Elia. They were admiring the greenery which had been shaped and grown into amazing designs that blew Sansa's mind.

There was much more variety than what she'd seen at the Red Keep. It was hard to tell which ones were familiar and what weren't.

"These are absolutely lovely." Sansa complimented, inspecting a bushel of flowers, all sporting different colors.

Elia smiled brightly, plucking a flower out from the bushel and taking a whiff of it and held it out for Sansa.

"Why thank you. I've planted a lot of these myself."

Sansa gaped slightly, taking the offered flower out to examine its beauty. "Truly? You?"

Elia nodded, walking over to one of the more grandly designed greenery that of an anthropomorphic being playing an instrument.

"I somewhat took up the hobby back when I first moved into the Red Keep after my marriage with Rhaegar. Mostly learning about the different flowers and the like that were outside of Dorne as trying to do typical gardening was servant work. However, it was abnormal and I was forced to stop; especially with Aerys' paranoia. But after coming here, I decided to explore it further and I wasn't going to be looked down on by the rest of the palace staff. Queen Minnie and Lady Daisy even joined me on a number of occasions. Some of these have been imbued with their magic to make them grow more. They even taught me some of their abilities."

Sansa's eyes widened at that last tidbit. "They taught you their magic?"

"Yes, why?" Elia's eyes glimmered knowingly. "Do you wish to learn yourself?"

The younger girl stammered slightly with the Martell laughing good naturedly, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Worry not. No need to be so bashful. I'm certain Minnie and Daisy would be more than willing to teach you. Plus Rhaenys would love to have someone around her age learn with her. I know it would do wonders for her."

Sansa looked away bashfully, placing her hands to her cheeks as she felt the heat radiating from her face. In turning away, she spotted a small plot of dirt that looked relatively fresh in comparison to the other plants in the garden.

What looked like a tree was growing and it had several leaves popping out that seemed… out of place in comparison to the rest of the garden.

Elia realized what Sansa had been staring at.

"This one here is one I hope to see bloom soon."

"What is it?"

"One of the King's friends from another World came by a while back and he gave me these seeds from his home. They're the seeds of a plant known as the Paupo fruit, one with an apparent magical property, according to legend."

"What does it do?"

"From what Riku told me, when two individuals share this with each other, their hearts and destinies become intertwined. No matter the distance, no matter the circumstances, the pair will always be connected and find their way back to each other."

Sansa's eyes widened, her mind immediately flashing the image of a teen with sandy-blond hair and blue eyes. "That sounds absolutely lovely."

"It is." Elia's gaze grew distant. "I would've loved to have such a fruit years ago. It… would've made things more bearable."

Hearing her change in tone, she looked up at the older woman, spotting the far-off and pained look she held in her eyes and Sansa frowned sadly, knowing that this woman has likely endured a great amount of pain in the past that still haunts her to this day despite being in such an amazing World. Back home, Sansa understood that the women of nobility seldom ever had the chance to choose their suitors, being wed out of duty over love. Now love can develop naturally but even then, the idea of being spirited away by ones true love is many a fantasy by the ladies of all of Westeros.

And it seemed that Elia was no different.

Who did she want to share this Paupo fruit with?

Thinking about it, Sansa had heard of many stories of a certain someone after Roxas came to Winterfell. Naturally, she wondered if Elia was yearning for Ventus. Her father briefly spoke of how his old friend was a green boy when it came to women, much like how he was in his youth and caught the eyes of many a lady fair at the tourney of Harrenhal.

He did mention that Ventus' grand introduction to all in Harrenhal was when he rescued Elia and her daughter from bandits.

And speaking of which, thinking of Elia's children, she'd gained a nice friendship with Rhaenys. Aegon, however, Sansa has yet to meet.

All she knew of his present whereabouts is him focusing on his schooling. It made the Stark girl think he intends to be a maester. Or whatever it was that qualified as a Maester in this World.

She did wonder if Rhaenys and Aegon would want to put forth their claimancy to the Iron Throne if they ever got the chance to return.

Thinking about it now, Sansa thought now may be as good a time as any.

However, when she attempted to speak on the matter, Rhaenys all but rushed into the garden.

"Mother! Sansa!" The Dornish/Targaryen exclaimed, running right to them.

"Oh, Rhaenys, is there something you need?"

Elia's daughter panted for a moment, trying to catch her breath and held up a Gummiphone.

"A-Aunt Ashara just called!" Rhaenys panted out, coughing a moment. "She didn't speak long but she told me something very important!"

Sansa frowned momentarily. That name sounded vaguely familiar. Where had she heard it before?

Elia silently leaned forward, anticipating a response when her daughter faced Sansa and smiled brightly.

"She told me that recently, someone came to Radiant Garden, someone from her past. She told me his name was Eddard Stark."

The elder Martell woman froze, eyes widening and jaw dropping at this news, almost not believing what she just heard. Her head then snapped in the direction of the Red-Wolf who was more shocked and more importantly, relieved in hearing this.

"My father's alive?" She croaked out.

-Castle Dracula, Wallachia-

*CLANG*

*CLANG*

*CLANG*

'Hmmm, the middle is curved off center.' Were the internal notes of the blacksmith currently hammering away on a chest piece armor set.

Learning much since arriving to this world, Gendry was troubled and sought a proper outlet. And the only one he's known for as long as he remembered was keeping up with his craft.

The solitude was nice, but he missed the idle chatter from his fellow smiths at Tobho's shop. He missed the lack of friends he had back there, including the Moogles.

'I hope they're doing well without me.' He thought as he inspected his work before setting it off to the side to cool down and figure things out later to fix the issue.

"Ah, I was wondering where you'd run off to."

Robert's bastard was momentarily startled, but turned to the dhampir who stood at the forging area. "Forgive me, my lord. I didn't mean to use the forge without your permission."

The Lord of the extravagant castle gestured down with both his hands. "You don't need to call me that. Alucard is fine. And there's nothing to forgive. I had told you before you had free reign of the forge here."

For the majority of his time being at the castle, Gendry was often spotted within the armory. Always looking at them, studying them and pulling out a journal to write out notes. Afterwards, he'd be working at the forge in hopes of replicating such works in their originating styles and methods.

In fact, the forge of Castle Dracula was like a second living space for Gendry. He was used to it as he lived in one since being taken in as a child. Yet it was vastly different from what he'd known for the majority of his life.

It was larger, for starters. Perhaps larger than Mott's shop by some margin. It was hard to tell with the amount of equipment and tools presently at his disposal. Ones that were familiar to him, ones which weren't but took time to understand, ones that made things far easier to work with than previous methods.

There were different kinds of kilns, screw presses and rolling presses. The sanding and polishing wheels were rather familiar, yet unfamiliar to him with the unique attachments to them. Not to mention the motor powered hammer mechanism helped save his arm strength all so much. All that and more to comprehend as he was steadily trying them all.

It honestly felt like Gendry was being spoiled in being here.

He knew Tobho wanted him to get out in the world and take advantage of things if he set up his own shop or swore service to a landed knight or lord. Yet being here quickly set up a rather high bar on what the bastard wanted to work with for now on.

"I still understand your smithing mind was taking much interest in many of their craftsmanship." Says the lord of the castle.

Gendry brightened up at that, taking a moment to look around at all of the tools and creations decorating the walls. "Oh yes, the armory is something. Some are much different, yet similar to what I've known growing up."

"Especially with the Moogles, no doubt."

The young blacksmith nods. "Though I somewhat wonder if there were any magical weapons and armor in your stores. Ever since the Moogles came into my life, I honestly began finding them a bit fascinating." He frowns a little. "I wish some were here to give me better guidance."

"I'm sure one would pop up at some point. I am a customer of theirs." The lord of the castle frowns a little. "Back to the topic at hand, my father was an accomplished magician. He held enough power within himself that he felt magically enhanced weapons to be unnecessary. He preferred physical things to be themselves."

Gendry held a thoughtful frown. "And what about you?"

The dhampir shrugged.

"I don't have a strong opinion. Magic and science are two sides of the same coin to me." Without physically touching it, Alucard willed his sword to unsheathe from his side before it hovered and twirls around him. "Although, I do have my preferences." He says before willing his weapon to be resheathed.

Gendry thought over the horned girl who Alucard regarded as his surrogate sister, who effortlessly carries around her large weapon with ease. "And what about Eve? I mean, is her mace magical?"

"It's not. It's something which helps output her excessive power."

Now his curiosity was piqued again. "And where did it come from?"

"Some schematics left by her… father. The rest came from the Moogles when I hired their services."

The blacksmith blinked. "Really?"

"Yes. I wanted to be sure Eve would be better manageable with her circumstances. On my own, it would've been impossible to make her mace within a short span of time. It would've taken me years to get it right."

"It's beyond anything I could ever imagine to be possible." Gendry remarked.

"Perhaps for now." Alucard rebuked with a small smirk. "Your talent for blacksmithing and crafting is something to be encouraged and expanded upon. Being here, I am fairly certain that you will accomplish far more than you initially believed."

Gendry's face gained a healthy tint of red, bashfully looking away at the praise and compliment.

Alucard 'hmphed' in amusement at the boy's reaction.

A thoughtful look came across the dhampir's face a moment later. "I'd like to show you something."

Curious, Gendry followed after his host who guided him to another part of the castle.

Silence blanketed the two as the young blacksmith wondered what awaited him.

Eventually, Alucard guided the teen into a square like room with a large assortment of bookshelves littered with books and other items. Yet the main focus were the several tools, specifically a rack of hammers and chisels with a lone stone table in the center.

"What is this place?" Was Gendry's query, feeling an odd sensation in being here.

"It's one of two workshops within this castle, designed for Devil Forgemasters."

"Devil Forgemasters?" The blacksmith shuddered slightly at the first part of the title.

"Practitioners of a certain branch of magic." Began Alucard. "Though they were not mere sorcerers; they were not just trained in black magic, but also in the alchemical arts and spiritual metaphysics, being able to craft a whole plethora of things."

This seemed to peak some of his interest.

"How… does it work?" Gendry asked, his mind a whirl with possibilities and ideas.

"I only know so much. Luckily, there are many books in the library that contain extensive knowledge collected by my father."

The teen hummed in interest. "Have you known any Forgemasters?"

"Personally, no. Knowledgeable, to a degree. My father knew two in fact: Issac and Hector. He even sought their services some time ago." Alucard motioned to their present location. "The workshop we're in now used to belong to Hector, in fact."

"And Issac?"

"Down in the lower levels. Though his is… less pleasing to the eye."

"What was it-"

"I'd rather not subject it to you." Alucard interrupted. "But, if you do wish to see it, I won't impede you, though I recommend you steer clear of his forgery. For now at least. Learn more about the practice before you go looking at other perspectives. No two Forgemasters are the same. Each one develops their own techniques and patterns when forging their style."

"Why's that?"

"With Forgemasters, they make life from death."

That stopped Gendry short rather considerably. "They… what? Did I hear that right?"

"I said what I said." The dhampir elaborates further. "The creations follow their creators' instructions. Even then, if following the orders of another, they don't disobey who brought them to the mortal plane. Though I believe it varies with the willpower of the Forgemaster." Alucard comes up to the table and brushes his hand against the surface. "Their most well known creations are night creatures. Originally they were simply a species in hiding. They either reproduced naturally or were created by acts of wild magic. On the latter, it eventually became more controlled. It's actually this reason why many creatures of the night respect Forgemasters and don't harm them. Because without them, much of their power is diminished."

Digesting this amount of information, Gendy pondered for a bit as he momentarily looked at the stone slab. "Hearing this makes me think of Old Valyria."

"And what is Old Valyria?"

The lord of the castle heard of it from Roxas during past discussions, but he wanted to hear Gendry's response.

"It… It was one of the tales Master Mott told me when growing up, one of the greatest empires of my world. He wanted to tell me and others of what went on in Essos before the Doom. It was said many great Houses in the Valyrian Freehold used magics to create… monsters to act as slaves and weapons of war. It was even said they used blood magic to bind dragons to many of those in charge and their vassals."

"Hmm, rather disturbing on the prospects. Though I can perhaps see some similarities with the Valyrian sorcerers and the Forgemasters." Alucard mused in interest.

Gendry was about to talk more about it when he heard a strange but now familiar slinking whooshing sound. He glanced back at the entrance in time to see a Samurai passing by on patrol.

His eye twitched slightly.

"Those… Samurai and Dusks, who follow Roxas' command… are they night creatures?" Gendry nervously asked.

"They are not." Alucard said with a shake of his head, making Gendry squint in thought.

"Then… what are they?"

"Nobodies."

The boy didn't respond at first. "Nobodies… as in… wait, what? What kind of description is that supposed to be?"

"A long and complicated one."

It was simply vague and Gendy didn't know if he'll get a proper response anytime soon.

Things shifted back to the one topic at hand with what the young blacksmith said next. "And how does Forgemasting work?"

"Like a blacksmith, a butcher, a carpenter or anything of the like, they have their tools." Alucard gestures towards the tools and racking which once belonged to Hector.

Gendry made a look, one of slight bemusement. "Why tools? Can't they, I don't know, wave their hands like wizards and magicians I was told in tales in my youth?"

A chuckle escapes the dhampir's lips. "Oh if it were that easy. But no. The Forgemaster works through an instrument. It is their focus for their craft. Just like how it is with you and your smithing."

Gendry nodded and understood the comparison. "So… could a Forgemaster use just anything to get the job done?"

A shake of his head was the immediate response. "From what my father told me, it has to be special. Making a new one has to be made from scratch in a very peculiar way, or else it won't work. Even then, acquiring already made tools of a Forgemaster is hard to come across. Others one may find out there may in fact be forgeries. Luckily, there are the ones in this room and down below in the castle."

"And… if making new ones, could they be… I don't know, a coin or a stick?"

"Each Forgemaster uses different things. Issac used knives to carve life into the dead. Hector used hammers to build life from the dead. It mostly aligns with one's nature."

Picking up one of the hammers, Gendry felt its weight before giving it an inspection. It was of good craftsmanship with hardly a flaw. With the bit of information he received, the making process of such tools would no doubt be a complicated process. It made him wonder how it was possible. A similar comparison is like how many blacksmiths throughout the world wondered how Valyrian steel was created, as the method was lost in the Doom of Valyria.

Though something else came to mind.

"Can anyone be a Forgemaster?"

"For those with magical talent, yes. It is possible for one to become one. It's something one properly learns over the span of years. It varies from person to person, from what I've learned. Even then, Forgemasters are rare, very rare."

"I can perhaps understand. Back in my home world, magic is a very dwindling factor since the dragons died nearly a century and a half ago. Murmur tales and the like are considered heretical by the Faith of the Seven. I'd imagine it's so sparse, the talent is miniscule at best."

Alucard gave a brief nod, recalling what Roxas told him before bringing up something rather significant. "However, there is a big qualifying factor you should know."

"And that is…"

"Humans, and only humans, can be Devil Forgemasters." He emphasized with a firmness that the blacksmith had not seen before.

"...What?" Gendry blurted out. "Why? What do you mean?"

Alucard's eyes took on a slightly darker glint, gazing down at the table in the room, placing a hand on the stone once more.

"To be a Forgemaster, a human essentially pulls a soul from the depths of Hell itself and inserts it into a dead body to give it life. Whether it be a human or animal, the results end the same."

He didn't need to look at the blacksmith to feel the shock and slight horror at the description that he was hearing.

"Vampires, dhampirs and any other sentient creature of the night cannot be Forgemasters. For Hell is populated by human souls who went against the will of God. Through the Forgemasters, they have the damned act as their soldiers on Earth."

Now he turned to Gendry and gave him a humorless smile.

"It's truly a fucked up detail, isn't it?"

"Th-that's one way of putting it." He stammered out, deeply disturbed at the notion.

The other worldly teen glanced at the table and then at the tools, shuddering slightly.

"I don't know if I wish to pursue such a practice."

Alucard laughed mirthfully. "I wouldn't blame you if you did so. Frankly, your talents alone can likely be developed through other means of magic and science. This place does have the knowledge to accomplish such things. But, if you must know, there is a theory I now have, knowing the nature of your arrival here."

Gendry looked at him strangely as Alucard pondered this theory for a few moments, trying to formulate it properly.

"The Forgemasters of this World abide by the rules, laws and nature that are enforced here. However, you, my friend, are not of this World. Therefore, perhaps, just maybe, you can find a different means of becoming a Forgemaster."

Gendry merely gives him a queer look. "What are you suggesting?"

"Who says Forgemasters can only make night creatures?" Alucard plainly said, now clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Perhaps your arrival here suggests that it is high time that a new avenue of Forgemasters be forged, one with a more noble and kind soul. And one who doesn't rely upon the damned. Someone with a new vision and talent to create a new branch in this ability. After all, magic and science are never meant to stagnate, only continually develop and evolve from what has been built upon by their predecessors."

Wordlessly, the lord of the castle left the aspiring blacksmith alone to his own thoughts.

-The Reach-

As he slept amidst the rolling grasslands, Rodrik Forrester dreamt of better times. Before Westeros experienced with it's current plight of the Heartless and the Unversed. Prior to when his family began to separate. Happier moments before things gave way to tragedy.

Sweet as it was, it was gone all too soon when his dreams came to an end.

Groggily, the heir to House Forrester forced himself to get out of his cot. If he didn't, he'd find himself sleeping once more with desires of pleasantry.

'I wish Elaena was here with me.' He thought with yearning in his chest. 'She'd give me all the comfort I'd need in these trying times.'

Elaena Glenmore, his childhood sweetheart and betrothed. He wished he would have married her before venturing south for the war against the Lannisters and eventually, Organization XIII. It would've given him a better drive in the end by returning home to having a new life with her. And he wasn't excluding the notion of the rest of his friends and family back at Ironrath.

He was doing this for them. He was taking part of this war out of duty, loyalty and for the safety of all those who he held dear to his heart.

'Is this what you really felt like back then, Asher? Or am I merely scratching the surface?' Thought Rodrik, pouring some water into a basin and splashing some of it into his face to wake up further.

There is not a day that goes by where Rodrik doesn't think of his younger brother. Of all the times they've spent together in the training yard, playing in the ironwood grove and whatever tomfoolery and excursions that came to mind.

Of course, on occasion, he thought back to the reveal of Asher having his love affair with Gwyn Whitehill.

It was quite the scandal of two members of rival Houses seeing each other in such a manner. It was like something out of a murmur's tale, but at that point in time it didn't have a happy ending.

To spare everyone from all out war between the families, Asher exiled himself to Essos.

'How long has it been since we've last heard from you, brother?' A frown marred his face. 'I can't remember. I wish you are alive, let alone well. I also wish I could've seen the signs and prevented things from escalating. But it's too late now.'

Once freshening himself up, Rodrik left his tent to see the encampment of the Northerners joining him on his present mission.

The whickering of horses and commotion of men quickly filled the air. They too were getting ready for the day by fastening themselves, beginning to break down their tents or preparing breakfast.

Speaking of, at the firepit nearby, Rodrik saw Shadd stirring oats into a kettle while Ser Wndel Manderly sat stringing his bow. Said man noticed him and was the first to greet the Forrester. "Rodrik, good morning. There are some birds in the grass. Would you fancy a roast quail for breakfast?"

"I'm fine with oats and bread, though thank you for the offer, Ser." Says Rodrik. "We still got leagues to travel for our task."

"Of course. Just wanted a small treat before we met Renly and his people. And hopefully today."

"You and everyone else."

As they made their way south, Rodrik and the company of men Robb assigned to him stayed clear of towns and holdfasts. Even though they stayed away from the conflict of the war, they had come across a number of Heartless and Unversed skirmishes. They just did not want to waste unnecessary time.

Presently they were in the Reach in hopes of tracking down King Renly Baratheon.

Since his marriage to Lady Margaery Tyrell and his coordination at Oldtown, Renly Baratheon spent a great deal of time moving through the Reach, gaining support and men; even though House Tyrell was rallying the banners beforehand. Though Rodrik did think it was a good move on Renly's part of speaking to them himself instead to gain more favorability.

From what they've learned, Renly's encampment was presently at Bitterbridge as they made their way to Storm's End to gather the rest of his collective army. Renly and his people would've made it to their initial destination by this point, but the vast army was making that a tad difficult.

At the very least, it gave Rodrik and his company some time to work with.

"Good morning, Rodrik. Sleep well?"

Looking over, he saw the Lightning Lord approach with a bowl of oats in hand and eating from it.

"Hard to say, Lord Dondarrion."

The man smirked, waving him down. "Beric is fine, remember? We share a mutual friend, do we not?"

The Forrester smiled. "That we do."

Two days ago, Rodrik and his company got into a tough position when they came across a rather strong pack of Heartless and Unversed. A lot of lives would've been lost had it not been the timely arrival of Beric Dondarrion and his people.

It was quite fortunate upon meeting the company of men who traveled with Roxas in hopes of capturing and slaying Vanitas of Organization XIII.

Once the one commotion came to an end, questions were obviously traded back and forth with why the other was there.

On Beric's part, he learned of Rodrik's mission. On the Forrester, he learned the Lightning Lord was traveling through the southern kingdoms with his company in defending the innocent from the Heartless and Unversed.

The young lord, of course, did question where Roxas was as Beric and the others were amongst the people to see him last at the capital. There was no proper response, only that after Beric and the company left King's Landing, they made their way to Blackhaven before settling matters.

Of course, with things relatively overlapping, the two groups joined together in order to meet with King Renly for their own agendas.

In the meantime of getting to Bitterbridge, the groups conversed with each other.

With Beric being present at Harrenhal, Rodrik asked the man many things as there were many tales and speculations. The Forrester wanted to know what fully went on from the truth and the exaggerated lies.

Looking at the faint depictions of the red moon, Rodrik puffed out an amused snort. "Still can't believe a dragon made that."

"Not entirely, but in part." Says Beric as he too gazes at the sky. "Though I still have my wonderment… as I remember that day."

"Hard to imagine all those who saw it firsthand." Rodrik quipped, shaking his head. "Imagine the surprise of not just Westeros but the world at large to now see two moons in the sky. Gods knows what sort of responses came about from this. Religious fanaticism, world-ending and changing events, all of it."

"You already have a taste of it with Thoros."

Oh how could Rodrik forget about the Red Priest from Myr. The man was unique with his sermons, just like how the tales depict them. Many of Rodrik's company were weary, but were settled given Thoros' affiliation with Roxas.

While said company of men weren't really on board with what Thoros really had to say, those under Beric's leadership -however- were. Aside from the Ironborn, there were people from each of the kingdoms who were aptly attentive.

Then again, they were right there at Harrenhal when the world was about to undergo a cataclysmic event.

Something which had each person swearing to a certain banner that would remain nameless until a particular time, for some reason.

However, It took some context clues for Rodrik to realize who this Brotherhood swore their fealty towards.

Strange times with odd bedfellows.

"My mind is still catching up with me. How far is it from Bitterbridge?"

"We'll be there later today. Perhaps some hours of riding if I'm correct."

"Good. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can conduct our business with King Renly."

For Robb's alliance, there wasn't really much to work with of what the Reach would perhaps desire from the North.

To start with, the Northerners' end goals were vengeance against House Lannister and Joffrey's head on a spike. Not to mention the safe return of the Starks of Winterfell who are supposedly held captive in the Red Keep. And most of all, from what the majority of the North desires is their independence as they don't desire the Iron Throne, let alone Southern politics. Though for some possible agreement, there was the idea of lesser costs of food imports coming from the South. Aside from there, there wasn't much else.

Lately, ironically, their battles with the Heartless and Unversed have given many in the North the unintended consequence of new materials and wealth that comes when defeating them. The rest of Westeros is likely aware of this but the presence of these dark creatures seem to concentrate themselves in the North and the Riverlands. To make a long story short, in terms of wealth, it wasn't really a priority.

The Reach would have a hard time working with this for the potential alliance. And this doesn't also include the added factor that the Northern army is slowly accumulating the Riverlands with Robb Stark having Tully blood in him and Lord Edmure Tully being unwed and having no child; trueborn or bastard at all.

However, with the recent issues plaguing Westeros, Ironwood and Ironwood resin is perhaps the hottest commodity there is against the Heartless and Unversed.

This is where Rodrik Forrester comes in.

He knows his sister Mira is presently betrothed to Willas Tyrell, the future Lord of Highgarden. He was quick to realize -once receiving the news of the betrothal- they'll desire a lesser cost on Ironwood and then some. So with his presence, further negotiations will be required.

What the South wouldn't know was them having access to something else no one else had known beforehand. Something which is arguably as valuable as Valyrian steel: Moogle Works.

…Yes the name sounded ridiculous.

Honestly, no one could think of a better name than what the Moogles themselves named their crafts.

Regardless, not only do they have wagons of Ironwood shields and resin but also an assortment of Moogle made items.

Hopefully it'll be enough to at least have a foot in the door with negotiations for further prospects.

After breaking camp, the assembly of the two companies traveled to their destination for some time. Drawing nearer and nearer to Bitterbridge, they were met with a company of outriders led by a knight bearing a grey field sewn with blue jays on his shield; depictions of the Greenpools.

"I am Ser Colen of Greenpools. Who are you people?" The knight demands as he gazes about the large company of riders and men.

"Lord Beric Dondarion of Blackhaven." The Stormlander speaks first.

"Rodrik Forrester of Ironrath." The Northerner follows. "Our business is urgent. I come as an envoy of Robb Stark, Warden of the North, to treat Renly Baratheon, the King of Westeros."

"I see." Says Ser Collen. "His Grace is encamped with his host near Bitterbridge. We will escort you and your company to him."

They saw the smoke of the camp's fires when they were still an hour away from their destination. Then the hints of sound came drifting across farm and field and rolling plain, indistinct as the murmur of some distant sea, but swelling as they rode closer. At first, they thought it was an attack, but Ser Colen assured them it wasn't.

By the time they caught sight of the Mander's muddy waters glinting in the sun, Rodrik and Beric's assembled companies could make out the voices of men, the clatter of steel, the whiny of horses. Yet neither sound nor smoke prepared them for the host itself.

Thousands of cookfires filled the air with a pale smoky haze. The horse lines alone stretched out over leagues. A forest had surely been felled to make the tall staffs that held the banners. Great siege engines lined the grassy verge of the roseroad, mangonels and trebuchets and rolling rams mounted on wheels taller than a man on horseback.

Not to mention the obvious piece of detail from what they all saw.

"This is a fearsome lot of men." Says Rodrik.

"That it is." Beric agrees as his lone eye gazes about.

He could depict the many banners that adorned lance and pike, painted upon shields hung outside of pavilions. They were generally Houses sworn to House Tully though he could see signs of a number originating from the Stormlands.

But of course the one most prominent was the standard of House Baratheon. However, instead of just the crowned black stag on a golden field, there were ones of a golden crowned stag on a green field.

"A new standard?"

"Since his brother, Stannis, is vying for the throne, Renly thought to differentiate." Ser Colen elaborated.

"Makes sense." Rodrik responds with. "By the looks of it, his connection with House Tyrell through marriage."

"Indeed."

Once making it past a certain point, the two guest companies were able to make out something which stood out.

"Cheering?"

Venturing deeper into the encampment, things became more prominent as they drew closer to a cleared field and a large ring of people.

"A tourney?" Beric murmured.

"Not exactly." Says Ser Colen. "Mostly a melee to appease the vassals and soldiers." He soon focuses on Rodrik and Beric. "If you two would follow me. As for your men, would you be so kind to have them wait here?"

"As you say."

Dismounting, Beric and Rodrik followed Ser Colen and ventured deeper to the central entertainment. It took them some effort to maneuver through to get to the edge of the crowd and see which knight was fighting who.

Beric was able to recognize one of them was Ser Loras Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers but the other was unknown. The mystery knight perhaps appeared to be a head taller than the Tyrell and wore good sturdy armor while wielding a flail and a shield being quartered with yellow suns on rose and white crescent moons on azure.

'House Tarth.' Beric muses in thought. 'Now which knight would you be?'

The Lightning Lord focuses away from the melee and to the raised gallery where he saw King Renly seated beside his wife, Queen Margarey.

The King wore royal armor over a green tunic which was colored bronze with antlers on the breastplate. His slender, circlet crown was of soft gold and bronze depicting antlers. There were even a few jade stones here and there.

As for the Queen, she wore a slender circlet crown of flowers with green gems. Her attire was of fine green and blue silks. There was quite the slit on her chest which showed the valley of her breasts.

Beside Renly were a number of knights wearing an assortment of different colored armor which obviously stood out of place. Red, green, orange, yellow, purple.

"I see you've noticed the Rainbow Guard."

"Rainbow Guard?" Rodrik repeated.

Colen nodded. "Since there is already a Kingsguard in King's Landing, Renly wanted to differentiate his for the time being."

"Much like his standard." Beric remarked. "And who is the Commander of this Rainbow Guard?"

"Ser Loras Tyrell."

As for Rodrik, he focused more on the women beside Queen Margarey. It wasn't long before he spotted one person in particular, making him smile.

'Oh sister, you look so beautiful.' Thought Rodrik as he looked upon Mira. 'Mother would be so happy with how you've grown.'

Focusing away from her, he could somewhat recognize her friend from Mira's letters. Sera wore a similar attire to Mira but less extravagant.

Of course, much like the Rainbow Guard, the other woman with them on the raised galley stood out a lot. A red haired girl wearing a strange pink attire.

'What in the blazes is she wearing?' Rodrik internally asked, having never seen such clothing on anyone, man or woman.

"Kick his butt!" Yells out the red haired woman.

Margarey quickly stood up and cheered. "Loras! For Highgarden!"

Refocusing on the fight, the Lightning Lord and Forrester saw Loras use his ax to deflect his opponent's shield before going in for a good strike. Yet it was parried by the flail. After some deflections on both combatants, Loras found an opening from several swings. Soon the Knight of Flowers disarmed the mystery knight and would've won but his opponent was quick in tackling him to the ground. Once punching Loras several times, the mystery knight pulled up the visor of Loras' helm, quickly unsheathed a dagger and pointed it at his exposed face.

"Yield!" Loras cries out. "I yield!"

Upon hearing this proclamation, the mystery knight from House Tarth got off of Loras, allowing the Knight of Flowers to somewhat fumble in getting up.

In the process, Margarey sat back down while the red haired, pink wearing young woman gave her a smug look.

"I told ya." She said, a teasing tongue sticking out at the new Queen.

"Yes, you have, Kairi." Margarey grumbles in good humor.

Renly claps alongside many in attendance before he speaks aloud. "Well fought. Approach, if you may." The mystery knight indeed approached and took a knee before the Baratheon. "Rise. Remove your helm."

The knight removed their helmet, revealing their features underneath to the shock of many in attendance. They expected a rather large man, but instead it was a woman.

Yet the Baratheon had a knowing smile, already knowing just who it was that fought his lover.

"You are all your father promised and more, my Lady." Renly says graciously. "I've seen Ser Loras bested several times, but never quite in that fashion."

Margarey leans over to her husband. "Now, now, my love. My brother fought valiantly for you."

"That he did, my queen. But there can only be one champion." Renly refocuses to the victor. "Brienne of Tarth, you may ask anything of me you desire. If it is within my power, it is yours."

The Tarth woman took a knee once more as she made her request. "Your grace, I ask for the honor of a place in your Kingsguard." This caused quite the amount of murmurs in the vicinity. Even Loras was baffled by this. "I will be one of your seven, pledge my life to yours, and keep you safe from all harm."

Loras and many others in attendance looked at Renly on what he had to say. After some moments of silence, the Baratheon gave his response. "Done!" He smiles. "Rise, Brienne of the Kingsguard!"

Soon an applause was made from all around. Though for most in attendance, it appeared to be forced or reluctant given it wasn't the way of things.

However, there were a few who were very ecstatic. One of which was the girl in pink who made no qualms about hiding her joy. She surprised many who were in attendance when she gracefully jumped down from where she was seated earlier, appearing completely unbothered by the fall and ran over to the newly anointed Rainbow Guard.

"Congratulations, Brienne!" She cheerfully said, all but running down the galley to approach the new Kingsguard member. "You were amazing! I knew you'd win."

The taller woman heard this and she had to look away to hide her bashful face.

"I-erm-um-yes, or no! I-"

"Oh my God, just take the compliment, ya overgrown sprout." A sly and casual voice chimed in from nearby. "Ya kicked ass, Brienne. Hold your head high for that by beating all of 'em competitors."

Looking over, they and others saw a tall red haired man with a strange black attire approaching the two women.

"Axel," Kairi lightly berated, letting out a yelp at him as he flicked her forehead.

Now it was Brienne's turn to say the redhead's name in the same exasperated fashion.

"What?" The fiery Keyblade wielder rhetorically said. "Ya gotta have more confidence in ya, Brie. You're an ass kicking knight who needs more respect put on your name."

Once more, the knightly woman blushed profusely at the compliments, looking down to avoid their gazes.

In the process of all this happening, Rodrik and Beric saw this interaction from afar. They practically froze upon seeing Axel's attire and were quick on conclusions.

"The Organization…" Beric hissed quietly, his gaze shifting into an alarmed glare.

"You don't think-"

"Something feels off about all this."

Before either of the two could act, the knight sworn to King Renly steps out of the crowd.

"Your grace," Ser Colen announces to interrupt proceedings. "I have the honor to bring you Lord Beric Dondarion and Rodrik Forrester, sent as an envoy by Lord Robb Stark of Winterfell."

As this was said, Mira looked over from her placement on the galley. Her eyes widened and she smiled upon seeing her older brother. Said person saw this and returned the gesture, but focused back at the Baratheon king.

"Lord Forrester, Lord Dondarion, I'm pleased to see you both." Renly greets them. "May I present my wife Margarey of House Tyrell."

"We've met." Beric says curtly.

"My sister wrote of you in her letters." Rodrik chimed in, his tone far more respectful and pleasant. "I can't thank you enough for being a dear friend to her since she left Ironrath."

The queen smiles softly at him. "And she's spoken of you well. You two are most welcome here." The smile on Margarey's face lessens into a frown. "I am sorry for your losses."

"...You are most kind, your grace." Says the Lord of Blackhaven as he focuses from the queen to the king. "We've endured much since we've seen each other last." Beric's lone eye shifts over to Loras. "Quite a lot, actually."

The Knight of Flowers shifted uncomfortably in his spot on the field.

Afterall, Loras swore to Roxas he'd stay in Kings Landing to help Eddard Stark. Yet he broke his promise when he and Renly left.

"My lords," Renly stood up from his seat in the galley. "I swear to you I will see the Lannisters answer for their crimes. When I take King's Landing, I'll bring you Joffrey's head as recompense for everything."

This earned a loud roar of cheers from the bannermen. Those by the raised galley were rather silent on the gruesome response.

"That is mighty kind to hear." Responds Beric.

"It will be enough to know that justice was done, my lord." Rodrik includes.

"Your grace." Brienne corrects the Forrester. "And you should kneel when you approach the king."

Nearby, Axel let out a dramatic "oooooh" followed by a slap on the shoulder from Kairi.

"There is no need for that." Renly says. "He is an honored guest. Most importantly, family, once his dear sister marries my good-brother."

At the mention of this, Mira shifts a little in her seat and looks a bit bashful on the reminder.

"Has your lord marched against Tywin Lannister yet?" Loras quickly asks from nearby.

"Beaten him, in fact." Rodrick revealed with a proud puff of his chest. "The Old Lion of Casterly Rock foolishly underestimated Lord Robb's cunning, guile and strategy."

"Yes, but you're losing more men as he's gaining more men." Loras chides back.

"As he'll need them." Beric idly said. "Lest you forget, King Renly, but the North is currently and likely the most experienced and battle hardened kingdom in all of Westeros. Their people have been assailed by the Heartless and now the Unversed for some time now and they are accustomed to fighting against overwhelming forces. Robb Stark himself is touted to contain powers and magic, while not on par with Roxas', akin to the boy. He himself can take on a hundred men by himself with nary a scratch if what Roxas told me was to be believed."

The youngest Tyrell son stepped forward, an arrogant look on his face now.

"If Robb Stark wants to make a pact with us, he should come himself." Loras butts in.

"My lord is fighting a war, not playing at one." Rodrik snaps in an even tone, earning a glare from the Knight of Flowers.

Instead of being offended, Renly chuckles. "Don't worry, my lord, our war is just beginning."

"But first, more play fighting."

There was an audible groan heard and Brienne hung her head, shaking it.

Beric and Rodrik turned to the source of the voice and immediately, they were on edge, their gazes becoming intense and forms tensing up.

"And who is he? The one wearing the coat of the Organization?" Rodrik questions. "He is an enemy of the realm with his group waging war on us."

The aforementioned redhead wears a smirk as he approaches the two guests, completely unbothered by their reactions towards him. "Oh? Is it my turn to introduce myself properly now?"

"Axel…"

"Step aside Kairi, let me show you how it's done."

The pink-clothed teen could only shake her head, half-amused and half-exasperated.

Margaery turned to the redhead and couldn't help but feel her lip twitch up at the man, appearing to be completely at ease in the situation.

He came right up to Beric and Rodrick, snapping his fingers, conjuring flames from this action, slightly jolting several around him in surprise.

"The name is Axel, A-X-E-L. Got it memorized?" The teal-eyed man remarked, poking at his temple. "I'm sure Roxas had mentioned me." He walks around slightly as he pats his black leather coat. "Also I'm not part of the Organization anymore. I just wear this cuz it's useful when using the Corridor."

Beric frowned in thought, recalling the many conversations he had with Roxas during their time traveling together to Harrenhal. The boy had gone over much about his magic, what he could do and what it entailed.

One of the topics was of the coat being a protective measure against the Darkness that could swallow those up who traverse to other locations within the Corridor.

But first of all…

"Axel?" There was recognition in Dondarrion's voice. "Roxas' friend? He said you were dead."

The redhead shrugged his shoulders casually. "Eh~ I got better."

Rodrik scoffed at this yet was somewhat amused. "One does not simply "get better" from death."

"Yeah, well I did." Axel cheekily retorted. "Because I'm just that awesome."

Beric wanted to say the same, given he had the similar experience but kept his mouth shut on the situation at hand.

Seeing as he wasn't impressing the two guests, Axel gave an exasperated sigh. "Seriously, what do I need to do to convince ya?"

"Forgive us for having such doubts." Rodrik placatingly said. "It's just when one hears such tales and for it to be disproven from one as credible and as respected as Roxas is-"

"Woof, you really have gone up in the world, haven't ya buddy." Axel murmured to himself, picking up on the earnest praise the Forrester Heir conveyed for his friend.

"-One tends to take his word quite seriously." The Forrester Heir went on. "So much of what we've learned and strengthened ourselves upon came from his word and guidance."

Axel let out a small 'hmph', a fond smile in place now. "Well, just know that I ain't no enemy. The Organization is on my shit list too. Kairi and I aren't here to cause problems but fix 'em if we can."

"They have proven themselves, My Lords." Renly spoke up. "I had my own doubts when I first met them, Axel in particular. But they soon showed themselves to be valiant warriors and those of noble hearts and minds. Kairi, specifically."

"Oi!"

"I know we have just met and are only now just getting to know each other but I give you my word on the intentions of Axel and Kairi. They are those worthy of trust."

"Yeah, take this guy's word for it." Axel chimed in, smoothly appearing next to the king, throwing an arm around his shoulder.

Kairi grabbed hold of his sleeve and pulled him off the Baratheon King with a deadpan.

"Axel, at least show some respect with how things are done here." She admonished.

"He is the king." Brienne gritted out, trying to sound annoyed but more exasperated by the man's disregard for status.

"Don't worry, Brienne." Renly waved her down. "You know he means well."

"It's not about meaning well, Your Grace." Brienne retorted. "It's about respect."

"Hey, I'm all about respect." Axel defensively said. "I just show it my way."

Rodrik and Beric snorted at the man, finding his cavalier and casual attitude amusing.

Kairi stepped forward to the two newcomers and bowed apologetically.

"Sorry about him, he has no filter or control." She said, turning back to him. "Come on, Axel, we gotta do our daily patrol."

"We already did that," Axel reminded her, though he didn't resist getting pulled away by her.

"No we didn't."

"Yes we did."

"Then it's time for another one."

Renly chortled at the pair's interaction. "A unique duo, are they not?"

"Axel seems to lack any sort of decorum." Beric noted, a glimmer of amusement in his lone eye.

"Or lacks a care for it altogether." Rodrik remarked.

The group left with Renly leading the way and Brienne not far away from her king. A few other members of the Rainbow Guard were not far behind while the rest stayed with Queen Margarey.

They walked through the camp as his people were hard at work at their chores and labors. Many addressed Renly, bowing even, as he walked passed.

A man comes near as he holds the reins of a horse. Renly spots and approaches him. "Gerald."

Gerald turned and bowed. "Your grace."

"How's your foot?" Renly kindly asked.

"Better, your grace." Gerald pats the horse. "They don't know their own size is all."

"Good man."

The horsekeeper soon looked over to Kairi. "And thank you, Lady Kairi. It would've taken longer to heal without your assistance."

She gave him a smile. "It's my pleasure."

They passed by many others, all giving out praise and compliments to the Baratheon who returned it in kind.

"I must say, Renly, you've done quite well here." Beric says as Renly smiles.

"I have 100,000 men at my command. Practically more on the horizon once I return to Storm's End. All the might of the Reach and the Stormlands."

"It's not the size that matters, but how you use it." Axel cheekily said. "Course, I ain't no slouch in either department."

Kairi merely covers her face with her hand to hide her embarrassment on his innuendo.

Wanting to assist the young Keybearer, Brienne smacks Axel across the head, earning a "Hey!" in turn.

"All of them young and bold like your Knight of Flowers." Beric comments. "It's a game to you, isn't it? I pity them."

"Why?"

"Because it won't last." Says Rodrik. "Because they are knights of summer and winter is coming."

There was a bitter, almost irritated smile Renly held at those words.

"Yes, House Stark's famous words. Lord Eddard stated the same several times over. You Northerners seem to always expect the worst, if not desire them."

"Expect them, yes. Desire them?" Rodrik gave the Baratheon king a hardened gaze. "Hard times create hard men, Your Grace. We know that turbulent times yields unbreakable men who know what is to come. Do you?"

Renly halted, his lips puckering slightly, taking in a deep breath before inhaling, closing his eyes for a moment before turning to the Northerner.

The seemingly judgemental looks Kairi and Axel were giving him wasn't helping on the matter.

"Frankly, Lord Forrester," Renly's tone was clipped. "I have to be honest and tell you that no, I have not endured these hard times that you speak of. But what you need to remember is that I am a Baratheon. And the Storm Lords and Kings of the past course through my veins. Our very Kingdom is that of endurance. So while I have yet to be tested, when it does come, I shall not let down my forebears nor the people who now follow me. Ours is the Fury."

There was a tense silence that now permeated the air in the group until it was broken up by a slow and lazy clap and this time, the King looked rightly annoyed.

"Really? Really? You couldn't just let me have that moment, Axel?"

"Hey, you see me clapping, right?" Axel held up his hands, still clapping. "You sounded good there. Real macho and kingly. I like it."

"He does know sarcasm."

"Does he, Kairi?"

The islander gave him a bland look, turning to Renly to give him a sympathetic smile.

Renly let out a scoff. "Kairi… that just makes it worse…"

"Sorry." Her smile cringed slightly. "I'm trying to get him housetrained."

Renly sighed good naturedly, patting her shoulder in appreciation. "At least you have some decency."

"...Is this normal?"

"Very." Brienne said in irritation, eye twitching at the Shit-eating grin Axel directed at her.

"Happens several times a day." Says one of the other Rainbow guard members.

Renly shook his head, turning to the newest member of his guard. "Brienne, escort Lord Forrester and Lord Dondarrion to their tents. They're no doubt tired from their journey."

"At once, your grace." Brienne looks to her king. "Should I return once done?"

"No. I would pray awhile. Alone."

Brienne appeared uncertain for a moment but followed her orders all the same.

The king walked off with the other Rainbow Guard members to another part of the encampment.

"See you later, Brienne." Kairi called out to her.

Brienne glanced back at her with a smile which turned into a deadpan at Axel mushing up the pink-garbed teen's hair, him giving her a thumbs up. Despite her annoyance, she huffed with a smirk appearing as she walked off with Rodrik and Beric.

The two Keybearers parted ways from the others to do their patrol for another time today, leaving just the three of them now.

"If you'll follow me, my lords."

The two lords walked behind the newly minted Rainbow Guard member to another part of the territory.

"You've fought well, Lady Brienne." Beric compliments her, wanting to start up a conversation.

"I fought for my king. Soon I'll fight for him on the battlefield. Die for him, if I must." The Kingsguard member looks back. "And, if it pleases you, Brienne's enough. I'm no lady."

Hearing this appeared to amuse the lightning lord, the man laughing good naturedly at her.

"Tyene Sand would find you enjoyable to speak with." He remarked, drawing her attention. "She fought as fiercely as you did, just more on the agile and nimble side. Same with many other Dornish women in our company."

Brienne said nothing but there was a glimmer of intrigue in her eyes at the mention of these Dornish women. She had heard tales of the most southern kingdom of Westeros and how unorthodox it was compared to the rest of the continent.

"I am curious how those two, Axel and Kairi, came about into the service of King Renly." Rodrik spoke up.

"We would like to hear it, if you don't mind." Beric adds in.

Brienne was silent, momentarily, before she informs the new arrivals of what she knows.

-Kings Landing-

Pouring a cup of wine to the man before him, Tyrion had several thoughts roaming in his mind.

"You'll be pleased to know our mutual friend is doing well in Princess Myrcella's service." Says Varys as he soon sips from his cup.

"I'm glad to hear." Tyrion mutters. "At least she's taking it better than being a scullion."

"I imagine that discussion wasn't all so well."

"Practically furious until I gave her the option to be a handmaiden." Says Tyrion. "It's the best option to keep Shae safe with Joffrey wanting to hurt me with him being king. Sooner or later, he'll look for any weakness and exploit it. He cannot know about her."

"Then you'll have to work and refine your discretion."

The imp merely grumbles into his cup.

"One of my little birds told me an interesting tale earlier. My~ My~ I never would've imagined the princess would be like her mother." Varys smiles. "Whatever advice you gave her, I'd never expect it to go in such a way."

"Unlike my dearly departed sister, Myrcella has the capacity to learn more than just cruelty and self-satisfying sadism. She will learn when to be strong and as for her temperance, I need not apply. Her own dedication to Roxas and Sansa coupled with her already kind heart shall keep her true and loyal to what she holds dear and believes in."

"Being a product of both of her parents. An interesting result we are witnessing these days." The Spider soon shifts topics. "You've sent Baelish away from the city, yes?"

"My brother is rotting in the Northern stockade. I merely suggested Joffrey do something about it, but in a more delicate fashion."

"You know as much as I do, Robb Stark will never release the Kingslayer."

"No, he won't. But his mother might."

Varys gave the Lannister a queer look. "But she is in the North."

"While there's rumors she's at Renly's encampment." Tyrion smiles a little more when seeing the Spider realize it. "He's desperate for Catelyn Stark, so his thoughts are partially blinded. He wouldn't know she's not there until the last moment."

"So why the deception?

"I want Baelish away for a while."

"And why's that?"

"I want to find a number of things without his direct supervision. Build up my case to certain parties so he'd never be free again."

The spymaster hums a little. "Cleaning house, I see."

"Definitely. I want things to be safer in this city. My niece has a greater desire for that. Janos Slynt was the first. Baelish is perhaps the second."

"...Well played, my Lord Hand. But should I be worried?" Varys elaborates. "Janos. Eventually Baelish. The Small Council will grow smaller. Who's next? Pycelle?"

"Pycelle is loyal to House Lannister, more specifically my father since the reign of the Mad King. Cersei is an unfortunate extension for him which he gravitated towards. But with her… gone, he seeks approval with the one with the most power." Tyrion sips from his mug. "Joffrey is one, Myrcella is another. Who knows who he'll align towards. And I'd rather not ruin a good resource such as him."

"Understandable, but regardless…"

"The council has a reputation for serving past Hands poorly. I don't mean to follow Ned Stark; either from execution or worse."

"Power is a curious thing, my lord. Are you fond of riddles?"

"Why? Am I about to hear one?" Tyrion asks, already knowing it was rhetorical.

"Three great men sit in a room: a king, a priest and a rich man. Between them stands a common sellsword. Each great man bids the sellsword to kill the other two. Who lives, who dies?"

Pondering on it, Tyrion responds. "Depends on the sellsword."

"Does it? He has neither crown nor gold nor favor with the gods."

"He has a sword, the power of life and death. What he thinks will greatly determine the outcome."

"But if it's swordsmen who rule, why do we pretend kings hold all the power?" Varys questions the imp. "When Ned Stark was intended to die, who was truly responsible? Joffrey? The executioner? Or something else?"

"...I've decided I don't like riddles."

"Power resides where men believe it resides." Was Varys' answer to his own riddle. "It's a trick, a shadow on the wall." He sees the acting Hand ponders a bit more. "And a very small man can cast a very large shadow."

-Bitterbridge, The Reach-

It was evening with many within Renly's encampment having supper or already gone to bed.

Everyone will be heading out in the morning and making their way to Storm's End. There would be no further delays for Renly to assemble the rest of his army. For once it happens, they'll march to King's Landing with possible victory on their side.

Outside of the guardsmen for night duty and varying workers, not a lot of people were awake.

One such person was Renly as he was awake as he was at the beginning throes of lovemaking this evening. However he was not with his wife, but Loras, his lover.

The two were passionately kissing each other with their hands roaming their bodies. The king shoved the commander of his Kingsguard onto the mattress with him taking off his shirt soon after. Loras bit his lip and more so when Renly was unlacing his own shirt. Once it was spread apart, the Baratheon saw the growing bruise on his lover's chest.

"That must hurt." He says, before leaning down to kiss at it.

Instead of enjoying it, Loras shoves him away slightly. Renly looks at him curiously before leaning in for some light kisses on his jaw. Once again, Loras shoves him a bit and turns away.

"What?" Renly finally asks, seeing Loras' reaction. "What is it?"

The Tyrell scoffs in disbelief. "A member of the Kingsguard? As if I wasn't humiliated enough already."

Sighing, Renly responds. "Brienne is a very capable warrior." He places a chaste kiss on his lips. "And she's devoted to me." Taking note of Loras' reaction, he gains a smile. "You're jealous."

"Jealous? Of Brienne the Beauty? Don't make me laugh."

In Renly's mind, there was a playful animosity going on. He thought it was cute his lover was jealous of his newest Kingsguard member having beaten him up.

Such a thing didn't happen beforehand when he was assembling his Rainbow Guard.

Robar Royce the Red, Bryce Caron the Orange, Emmon Cuy the Yellow, Guyard Morrigen the Green and Parmen Crane the Purple. Each were capable fighters and proved themselves several times over.

However, Renly desired to have Ser Barristan Selmy as one of his seven. With his presence, Renly would gain much favorability with the rest of Westeros by having a living legend as the man would help cement his claim to the Iron Throne.

Unfortunately, no one had seen him since his dismissal at King's Landing. People wonder if he's in the wind or perhaps slain. It will be quite the mystery for years to come.

Renly kept the final spot open for the man until recently by anointing Brienne of Tarth as his final member. And it was on that decision alone did it get his lover riled up.

Straddling Loras' waist, Renly begins unfastening his trousers. "I'll make it up to you."

Loras' hands shot out and ensnared Renly's wrists. "No, your grace. Not tonight." Renly tried a playful approach, but Loras put a stop to that as he was being serious. "There's another Tyrell who requires your attention. You didn't win my father's support or army on charm alone." He all but shoves him away before redressing himself, not noticing the hungry look in his king's eyes. The Baratheon sought to resume things, but Loras stopped him once more. "Your vassals are starting to snigger behind your back. Brides aren't usually virgins weeks after their wedding night."

This got a laugh out of Renly. "And Margaery's a virgin?"

The look Loras gave him actually shut him up about it.

"Shall I bring her to you?"

The Tyrell didn't wait for a response as he got off the bed, gathered the rest of his things and snuck out of the tent.

Being left alone, Renly groans as he wondered if he's fucking things up further right now.

Putting on a shirt, the Baratheon began drinking some wine. He was focused on it and did not realize of the new arrival until the last moment. "Forgive me, my wife. I should warn you, I've had quite a bit of wine."

Margaery smiles at him. "As is your right. You are a king."

As she got closer to him, Renly saw from the candlelight the gown she wore was of fine fabrics and silks. There were no pieces of jewelry at all as her natural charm and beauty was on full display. Said beauty wasn't truly stunning, but strikingly attractive. Hell, just throw on relatively simple clothing and she'd still draw many an eye; both men and women alike.

"You look very beautiful."

"Thank you, your grace."

"That's a lovely gown."

"You think so?" She fiddles around with it slightly, even doing a little twirl. "I can't decide how I like it better." She steps closer to her husband. "This way…" She unfastens the claps of her gown, parting away the fabric to reveal more of her beauty. Her breasts were on full display as there was no sag to them at all. "Or this way."

The Baratheon's eyes roam over her before focusing on her face. "You certainly don't need it."

He wanted to get drunk enough where he could misplace the image of Margaery with her brother. It would make things easier to properly consummate their union. And he needed enough arousal to make it happen.

"Although," Renly began before his lips were met with Margarey's. "Some say that beauty most desired," he was met with another kiss by his wife, "is the beauty concealed."

He was silenced with a gentle placement of her finger. They began kissing once more with Margarey undoing the strings of his shirt. He tried to kiss back properly and be aroused enough to take her to bed. Even when he felt her hand slip into his trousers to rub against his manhood.

Unfortunately, the attempt for this night would be unsuccessful.

"It… It must be the wine-"

"Do you want my brother to come in and help?"

"...What?" Came his shocked response.

"Or he could get you started." His wife suggests. "I know he wouldn't mind. Or I could turn over and you could pretend I'm him."

"I… I don't know what you're talking about." He says, doing his best to feel offended.

Instead of being mad at her husband, Margarey gives him a sympathetic look as he sat on the bed. "There's no need for us to play games. Save your lies for court. You're going to need a lot of them." She walks over and places her hand on his shoulder before sitting beside him. "Your enemies are not happy about us. They want to tear us apart. And the best way to stop them… is to put your baby in my belly." This got Renly hanging his head, making her sigh in response. "We can try again later. You can decide how you want to do it. With me, with me and Loras. However else you like." She gently grasps her husband's head and turns it towards her. "Whatever you need to do. You… are a king."

She kisses his head and leaves him alone with his thoughts.

The Reach, let alone House Tyrell, are rich in both wealth and grain. Their food feeds the majority of the continent with their exports, which becomes far more valuable in war times. They have the Redwyne fleet. They have Lord Randal Tarly. They have a massive force that rivaled the Westerlands and then some.

This marriage Renly has with Margarey was the essential mortar of their alliance.

There was much success with Renly's charisma as he was rallying the many Houses to join him. Everything was fine and good. However, the one difficulty he was having thus far was bedding his wife.

The idea of having Margarey getting pregnant from another man came to mind. It would help solve a lot of problems. However, it would bring up more as a result.

During the reign of King Viserys I, Princess Rhaenyra had wed Laenor Velaryon where they had three sons before his death. However, it was outright obvious to everyone the three children were bastards as neither of them bore Valyrian traits. Instead they greatly resembled Ser Harwin Strong which was ever more scandalous, given the man was the son of Lord Lyonel Strong, the Hand of the King at the time.

This issue ended up being a big factor leading up to the infamous Dance of Dragons.

Years later, a similar issue arose which led to the Blackfyre Rebellions, due to questioning legitimacy between Daeron the Good and Daemon Blackfyre.

And quite recently, the situation revolving around Jon Arryn's death was tied to not just Robert's sons of Joffrey and Tommen, but also of Jon Arryn's own.

Though one would wonder why he wouldn't be throwing Myrcella into the situation at all of perhaps being a child of incest like her two brothers. Yet it was rather obvious when Renly thought about it as Myrcella did carry traits of Baratheon blood in her, small as it was.

Renly did remember he had some Lannister ancestry. However, the Baratheon blood was strong enough to wash over the Lannister traits.

His niece, however, was an apparent exception as her blue-green eyes were enough to help her claim as Robert's trueborn daughter. But not Joffrey and Tommen as their builds and structures were not good, not a shred of dark blonde hair or a change of the eyes.

Regardless, these are hard lessons about bloodline thefts. Something which Renly did not want to take part of.

As Renly was doing much of his pondering, Margaery was placing her gown back on along with her discarded coat. It would be a bit of a walk back to her tent, especially with how cold it was tonight.

Leaving the king's tent, Margarey gave curt nods to the two knights standing guard before making her way back.

It wasn't when she was several feet away did someone speak and garner her attention.

"That was rather quick."

Margarey frowns ever so slightly before gazing over to see Axel leaning against a support beam, arms crossed, some strange blue thing on a stick dangling between one of his fingers.

"Man, this place is weird with how they do things." He commented, taking a bit out of what she deduced to be a frozen treat of some kind.

"It is the way it must be if the alliance is to be cemented." Margaery smoothly said, seeing the way he raised his brow, clearly not convinced on the matter.

"Uh-huh," He idly said, finishing off his treat and in a display of his power, incinerated the ice-cream stick to ash that fell apart between his fingers.

The Tyrell couldn't help but stare at what he did in open wonder. To see such power, such magic being used so openly and freely by her two newest friends…

She couldn't deny that she wished that she could use such abilities herself.

Maybe even develop the power to heal her brother Willas' limp that still plagued him to this day.

She blinked a moment later, seeing him now holding another one in his hands, not even seeing how or where he got it from. The woman was about to ask where it came from but another question came to mind instead.

"Why are you here?"

He shrugged, taking a bite out of his treat. "Just clearing my head, queenie."

She had only known Axel for a short amount of time but she found herself growing used to the little nickname he gave her. She could tell he meant no offense and there was a friendly endearing tone behind the way he said it.

"Oh, is your tent not comfortable? If you want I could have some men find a better one-"

"It's not that, but thanks for the offer." He cut her off, his tone earnest. "Like I said, just clearing my head. Always got a lot goin' on in here so sometimes, gotta find the ways to empty the bin."

"Truly? I always assumed there was a dancing monkey spinning torches in that head of yours."

"Oh~ very impressive, Queenie. How long did it take you to come up with that?"

"I've been thinking about it all day. Just waiting for the right time to apply such a devastating insult." She said in complete seriousness.

"Well I felt it," Axel placed a hand over his chest, letting out a faux-gasp of pain, hunching over. "I don't know if the Queen of Thorns is a hereditary title, as you clearly have such a barbarous tongue from your grandmother."

A smirk was given. "Not quite yet, but in the future, I just might."

The two broke into a fit of laughter, Margaery's initial mood fading away. Her eyes trailed to the snack in his hand that he was eating. Well, more like another. Made her wonder where he seemed to make it appear from seemingly nowhere.

"What are you eating right now?"

"Ice cream. Just a frozen treat." Axel waves his slightly, affirming her earlier deduction. "Want one? I got plenty."

With a seemingly hand trick, he pulled out another Sea-Salt ice cream from behind his back.

Margaery stared again, her mind not properly understanding just where he kept these bars but chalked it up to magic as she tentatively took it out of his hand.

Inspecting the item, she takes a dainty lick out of it. The first taste she got had her recoil a little. "It's salty." She mutters before getting an odd aftertaste. "And sweet?"

"Yeah, weird, I know but I like the flavor. It grew on me." Axel's tone was one of fondness yet distant at the same time. Margaery gazed at him for a few moments, another bout of curiosity coming over her at this strange man but for now, opted to focus on her new treat.

"Not the strangest concoction I've partaken." Came her mutter as she took a small bite. "In fact, it is quite unique. Where did you come by this?"

"From my hometown."

"And where is that?"

"Beyond any map you've ever seen." Was his enigmatic response.

"Are you sure? I could perhaps know of it."

Axel snorted, a mysterious smile now gracing his features. "Oh yeah, real sure but if you're adamant about it, good luck finding it."

Margaery gave him a pointed look. "It would help if I knew its name."

He decides to throw her a bone. "It's called Radiant Garden."

"Radiant Garden." She parroted, nodding to herself and filing the name away for later. Especially as one so unique. "Very well, I shall prove you wrong."

"I'm sure you'll try."

She squinted at him, pouting slightly at his condescending tone, eliciting a laugh from him. The Tyrell queen snorted a moment later, shaking her head at her casual, unqueenly behavior. In the short amount of time she had spent with Axel and Kairi, Margaery found it very easy to forget most customs and practices that had been instilled by her upbringing and just be herself. Truly herself.

These two just brought it out in her so quickly and easily, it honestly surprised her how much it didn't.

Looking up at the night sky, Axel gave a wistful sigh.

Glancing over at him, she saw a slightly conflicted expression. "Is something wrong?"

"You know, I was really hoping the stars would at least be somewhat familiar."

"Are the constellations different from where you come from?"

There was that enigmatic glimmer in his eyes again. "You can say that. Between you and me, it's a matter of perspective. Big or small, light and dark, they share the same sky. The stars up there might be in different places when you look at them, but in the end, they're always the same. Someone once told me years ago how it was all one sky with one destiny."

"One sky, one destiny." She mutters. "An interesting phrase. What does it mean?"

Axel closed one eye, running a hand through his fiery hair. "People say their lives are defined by the stars or some other rubbish. Having them define who you are. I don't abide by that notion. The whole stuff involving predetermination and destiny makes things unsettling in my case. Makes me appreciate those who try to break out of the typical norms."

Margaery frowned slightly, turning to look up at the stars as Axel went on.

"A man can change his stars and no one doesn't want to spend the rest of their life as nothing. How they want to make their mark in the world. Choosing your own path, taking hold of the power to change what's in front of you, that's what I believe in."

"That sort of power and thought can be dangerous." Margaery found herself saying.

"Yeah, it is. Which is why you gotta do so for the reasons that would hurt the least amount of people. Especially those you care for." His voice was low, somber even. "Every choice you make seldom has an effect on others, be it good or bad. You just gotta navigate it to the best of your abilities to make more good than bad."

Pondering on all this, Margarey couldn't help but wonder about such possibilities.

"Can it be done, Axel? Can someone change their stars?"

"You tell me, Queenie? Do you want to change the fate of others?" Axel's gaze became more intense now, sending a sudden shiver down Margaery's spine as he leaned in slightly. "Do you want to change your fate?"

She suddenly found herself nervous at the question, a strange sensation of uncertainty washing over her. "I… wouldn't know."

Looking at her a bit more, he lessened his gaze and gave her a soft smile. "It's fine if you don't have a definite answer now." He saw her state and grimaced slightly. "Sorry 'bout that. Didn't mean to rattle you like that."

Margaery smiled sweetly at this response and found herself wrapping her arms around herself for some added warmth when a cold breeze brushed her.

Axel saw this and smirked. "Let me help with that."

From his hand was a ball of fire and brought it close, but not enough to harm her. Nearly instantly, the Rose of Highgarden could feel the warmth wash over her.

"Thank you." Was her kind response, giving him a bright smile, him returning it with his own.

"You're welcome."

There was a beat of silence, Margaery subconsciously beginning to sway back and forth, letting out a small, thoughtful hum.

"You know… I wouldn't mind having a proper escort these days."

Axel quirked a brow at her. "Don't you have guards for that?"

"Normally, I would, but lately…"

"I get ya." Was his cheeky response, shifting into a mock-regal pose, chest puffing out and head held high. "Then Margaery, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, allow this literal firecracker to request in being your escort as a fine lady such as yourself requires one to get back to her tent." He turns his head about and scratches his head in confusion. "Though with how large the encampment is, we could get lost along the way."

She openly laughed at the immediate shift in his demeanor, going up to wrap her arm around his, adjusting it accordingly.

"I would be delighted, my dear Keyblade master."

"Not a master." He corrects her. "Not yet." The two continue walking side by side as he questions things again. "Honestly, how are you able to navigate through all this? Kairi and I have been having trouble since we joined you. Even in the bloody daylight."

A small laugh escapes her lips. "Oh yes. Many of these look the same, more so in the dark." The two resumed their walk through the camp. "All this time I've had to learn my way around the camp. Twice I walked in on officers in stages of undress. And the moment I finally learn where my tent resides, we're on the move again."

"Your tent? Not our tent? What, like does Renly snore? He a puncher or kicker or smacker in his sleep? Or does prefers his solitude?" Axel asks playfully. Seeing her sideways glance, he rolls his eyes. "Jokes aside, I already know the reason." He then speaks with a small hush as he leaned slightly close. "He prefers a different sort." The redhead pulls away. "Overall, I can respect how your marriage can be. You two don't have to love each other physically. You can do so emotionally while respecting each other. Establishing a partnership for the betterment of the realm. Still weird though, not what I'm used to."

The corner of her lips twitch upward to form a soft smile. "I'm glad you can understand that, Axel. Speaking from experience?"

"Nah. None, whatsoever. I'm just observant."

"Do you like to observe others?" She inquired, a false tone of accusation that he chuckled at.

"Just a habit of mine. That and I'm a people person."

"I couldn't tell."

"I'm good at hiding it. Though I do feel bad that's likely to become an absolute chore in getting your husband to do what's really needed." Axel snorts. "Pardon me for saying this, but damn, it must be awkward of you possibly having to see your husband and brother-"

"Yes, I know." She grits out. "It's not that I'm angry or anything, I've been aware for years it's just…"

"Yeah, no need to finish that statement." He sympathetically said.

Some moments of silence blanketed the two before the Tyrell pulled it off. "What do you make of him? I know it's only been a short while but…"

Axel hummed in thought. "Trust me that much already, do ya?"

"Are you not a people person? And you are far too honest for your own good."

"By my impression, he's a pretty good peacetime king, not a war-time king." Says Axel. "He is very politically astute. Not to mention his justifiable ambition, which could be a double edged sword. But with you here, you can be the kind of queen who keeps all that in check."

"And what kind of queen am I?" She was genuinely curious.

In their short time traveling together and getting to know each other, it was clear to Margaery that Axel was a man who cared little for the opinions of others save for those he called friends like Kairi. And subconsciously, she hoped she would be counted among those as friends. But his carefree, lackadaisy attitude disguised a hidden wit and sharp eye, stating and pointing out that which would go unseen

"Since traveling with you all, I have my impressions." Began the fiery Keyblade wielder. "You've got the patience and aptitude and while you don't have it now, you'll have all the experience you need to properly rule. Until then, you've got a growing reputation from your home with your humanitarian works with the little people. Not to mention you know your shortcomings, which you'll seek advice from those you can trust, who know their shit. That's something any ruler out there should be like. Other than all that, well, only time will tell."

From the flame in his palm, Axel began to mold it where it seemed to dance in Margarey's eyes. Eventually, it began to form a rose that hovered close to her. She ended up cupping it in her hands, making her smile. It didn't burn or harm her, instead, the warmth she felt was otherworldly.

"Usually, a flower takes its time to grow and blossom. The petals open as the seasons change. But you can be more than a simple flower. Hell, you can be a whole damn raging, untamed forest. However," Axel clenched his fist, the flames dispelling, much to her displeasure. "If you want to achieve that kind of strength, you'll only get it by running towards conflict, not away from it. Strength is forged in adversity. Are you willing to do that?"

Margaery's brows furrowed in thought before facing him and silently nodding, seeing him grin in approval.

She didn't know when but she did know why she felt such a swell of joy at the sight of his support.

It was the same as when Kairi gave it to her much like Mira, Sera, her grandmother, and brothers in the past.

None of it was falsified, politically motivated or held ulterior motives. Their reactions, their words, the way they treated her was one hundred percent authentic, genuine and kind. They were nice to her simply because they liked her. They even told her as plainly as they do.

Sure Axel had his habit and annoyances but they were far more endearing then they were aggravating. And Kairi, well, that girl was the sweetest girl she had ever met with an unseen strength and fierceness in her eyes that came out in the most surprising of ways.

In a short amount of time, Margaery had latched onto them both, the pair becoming invaluable companions and friends.

And it would be hard for her to forget how Axel and Kairi came into her life.

It began with her wedding day. Something which she and many others had thought of and planned for years. She was the Rose of Highgarden and the only daughter of the Lord of the Reach. As such, there would be no spared expense.

What Margarey never accounted for was her wedding to be considered a royal one.

Instead of having it at Highgarden, it took place in Oldtown at the Starry Sept, for Renly was to be anointed and crowned by the High Septon before taking their wedding vows. But at least her family was there to witness it; even if her mother, grandmother, Garlan and Willas weren't exactly happy of Renly being her husband. Loras, especially, given he and Renly were lovers.

It was rather unique and unconventional, given how abrupt the arrangement was. But Margarey accepted and did her duty for not just her House and people, but for the realm as a whole for she became Queen of Westeros.

Well… she would truly be queen once Renly took King's Landing.

And to think, the Reach was originally planning one war and ended up taking part of another.

Now to the heart of things, it was a day's ride outside of Oldtown and venturing back to Highgarden when things took a drastic change.

Their assembly was ambushed by a large skirmish of Heartless and Unversed. They were vastly unprepared against the creatures of darkness. More, if not all, would've been lost if it weren't for the timely arrival of not just one but two wielders of the Keyblade.

Their arrival was like a sign from the gods which Margarey didn't want to waste.

There was brief animosity, courtesy of Axel's attire, but Margarey halted it as she owed Axel her life. Things were eventually cleared up with Renly giving the former Organization member a pardon as a means of currying their favor.

For a time, Axel and Kairi assisted in escorting the Tyrell retinue back to Highgarden. And in that time and then some, Margaery and Renly eventually convinced the two to join their side of the war.

Of course, instead of flaunting such detail, Renly went to great lengths in keeping the presence of Axel and Kairi a secret. A secret weapon, as it were, to greatly turn the tide when eventually combatting their opposition.

But she knew that the rumors were already beginning to spread. Even though they had been traveling together, one way or another, word of not one but two Keybearers in Renly's company would undoubtedly begin to spread.

It didn't help that Heartless and Unversed at times stood in their way and naturally, commoners who weren't part of their travelling company had bore witness to the feats of Axel and Kairi.

It was only a matter of time before their enemies learned of their existence.

"I believe this is your tent."

Margarey was knocked out of her thoughts when realizing some unknown amount of time had passed. A small sense of displeasure filled her as she would've liked to continue their talk further.

"Thank you for being my escort, Axel." She sweetly said.

Axel 'hmphed', winking at her playfully. "Anytime, Queenie."

He turned to walk away and her hand subconsciously reached out for him.

"I would…" She spoke up, seeing him stop and turn back to her. "I would like to do this again sometime, if you wouldn't mind."

He frowned at this request, almost finding it strange. "Ya know, you don't need to ask, Margaery. We're friends. Just say when and where."

Margaery felt a swell of warmth in her chest at these words. They were so casual and unconcerned yet it was in that she found such comfort.

"Of course, of course," She chided herself. "We are friends."

Hearing this, Axel shook his head, grinning all the same.

"You weirdo. Good night, Margarey."

"Yes good nig- Weirdo?!" Came her indignant squawk. She had been called many things in her life but weirdo?! How dare he?!

His cackle was heard, having her fume in turn. Though the baffled reaction shifts to some mild humor as she enters her tent to finally rest this night.

-Pyke, Iron Islands-

Theon's old chambers had never seemed so chilly, though the thralls had left a brazier burning. Even then, the lit fire didn't seem all that inviting.

Much like the feast he was all but forced to attend that evening.

The last son of Balon Greyjoy did his best to appease the rest of the Ironborn. He presented himself as well as he could. However, he was met with ringing laughter; all of it directed at him.

Not to mention the whispers he picked up on how Theon struck his father for a disagreement.

Balon was smiling, gods be damned, and his uncle Victarion chuckled aloud. It was utterly embarrassing. However, a small part of him knew part of this was all a facade to cover their unsettledness towards him of all people.

Half his life, he had waited to come home, and for what? Mockery and disregard?

This was not the Pyke he remembered. Or did he remember? He had been so young when they took him away to be held hostage.

The feast was a meager enough thing, but ale and wine continued to flow long after the last of the courses had been cleared away. The same with the mockery with many attendees sneering at Theon. He even could depict all but stating behind his back or away from his focus that he wasn't good enough to be a Greyjoy.

Reality bitch slapped him hard across the face when coming to this realization.

'May the Others take them.' He mentally cursed. 'But Asha was right, I have no place here. Not anymore.'

With the storm bellowing outside of his window, Theon barely made out the depictions of the waters below turning from green to grey to black to practically vanishing.

Thinking back on the earlier discussions with his sister, uncles and father, Theon knew what he needed to do.

Under candlelight, Theon wrote a letter and eventually inspected it.

Robb,

I hope this reaches you in time. My father has rejected the offer and plans to attack the North, raiding the shores and taking both Deepwood Motte and Moat Cailin. Redirect your army and make for the North before my father does. I don't know when I'll be able to meet up with you again. Or even if I will.

-Theon

Satisfied, in a fashion, the Greyjoy rolled up the parchment and applied a bit of wax onto it. Soon after, he took off his necklace and pressed its surface onto the wax to properly seal it.

In a saddening way, the family he desired was not here at Pyke it was back in Winterfell.

Leaving his chambers, Theon had to navigate out of the tower to find the rookery with his hidden letter. Another was made and attached so that once it reached the Riverlands to deliver the other to Robb.

With the growing storm, it may help cover his intentions. But he had to stay vigilant so he wouldn't be caught for what he's about to do.

He had to get this sent posthaste. He couldn't delay.

If he gets caught before sending the letter, it'll be harder to send out the warning. If he fails in that, the North would be in worse peril.

With it raining, Theon momentarily wondered if the ravens would be able to reach Robb. But he remembered Ironborn ravens were sturdier than the rest.

He was soon hit with the rainfall. The cold bitter wind was akin to being struck by some of the lesser Heartless he battled in the past. The swaying bridge was a chore to cross without falling over and meeting his certain doom at the rocky bottom.

Upon finding the rookery, Theon checked every corner and every step in case of any guardsmen being present. None, however, were but he couldn't be laxed.

It took a bit to find the right raven for the job. He was thankful there was one which would roughly reach its intended destination. Once feeding the bird some food he saved from the feast earlier, he attached the letters to the raven and let it loose into the storm.

Quickly leaving the rockery, Theon did his best to carefully steady himself on the swaying bridge. The storm was growing stronger and he had to return to his chambers.

Along the way, Theon saw something from the corner of his eye.

From the flashes of lightning, Theon soon made out a pair of figures standing on a neighboring bridge quite the distance away. It was hard to tell what was going on as neither were really moving from their spots.

Shaking his head, Theon pushed on to get back so he wouldn't be noticed by anyone else.

When he got to the one tower where Theon's chambers resided, the Greyjoy looked back to the one bridge and only saw one figure remaining who soon left the vicinity.

Making it back to his chambers, the Greyjoy finally released the building breath in his chest. He was safe for now, but had to be careful on what to do in these coming days for what's to come.

All he could do now was pray everything will be alright.

It was morning when the news abruptly awoke him from his slumber.

For the briefest of moments, dread filled his very being when seeing Aeron standing in front of his chambers. He feared he was caught and was to be killed.

What he soon heard was not the case.

"Your father is dead, Theon."

The one Greyjoy's worry was replaced with baffled confusion. "What? How?"

"He was crossing a bridge when he fell and was dashed upon the rocks below. Some servants found his body when scrounging up some fresh fish from the ocean."

Recalling the weather last night, Theon couldn't help but ask, "Was the storm raging when he fell?"

"Aye. The Storm God cast him down."

For thousands of years, the sea and sky had been at war. From the sea came the Ironborn and the fish that sustained them even in the depths of tinter, but storms brought only woe and grief.

"Your father, my brother, sought to make us great again, which earned the Storm God's wrath. He now feasts in the Drowned God's halls." Says Aeron Damphair. "Get ready. We're assembling for his funeral."

Things after hearing his uncle say this became a relative blur.

At the shores of Pyke was the funeral of Balon Greyjoy with many servants and lords being present for the event.

He didn't want to be here, but he had to. It was common courtesy, even if he didn't like it.

As he saw the pallbearers bring the casket into the sea, Theon's mind was focused elsewhere.

With his father's death, a lot has suddenly changed. Would the plans he already made pertaining to the North still move forward, delayed or halted completely? Would he perhaps leave now since he has no obligation or have to stay a bit longer due to what he knows?

"Lord, take your servant Balon Greyjoy back beneath the waves." Theon heard his uncle Aeron say aloud for all in attendance. "Feed the creatures of your kingdom on his flesh. Pull his bones down to your depths to rest beside his ancestors and his children."

"What is dead may never die." Chorused many of the attendees.

Was it strange that he felt… so hollow at seeing his father's casket? There was a strange feeling that Theon couldn't identify. He should be upset, shouldn't he? This was his father…

Was… his father.

His eyes were glossy as thought back to the day the news came of Lord Eddard's capture along with Sansa and Arya. Though he managed to play it off, he felt the clenching of fear and terror at the thought of what would happen to Lord Eddard and his daughters.

So… Balon Greyjoy was his father at one point. He was.

But a proper father doesn't abandon his children. He doesn't belittle them, even after years later upon a child's return. He doesn't sneer or deride them, no he is meant to welcome them back. What he got upon his return home… Theon scoffed. Not hard to surmise what kind of man his father was.

Seeing the casket drift off to the sea and eventually sink into the watery depths, Theon made to leave when he was halted by his uncle of a Drowned Man.

"Yes?" He patiently asked.

Aeron gave him a pointed look. "Kneel."

"...Uncle?"

"Kneel. Or are you too proud now, a lordling of the green lands to come among us, especially today of all days?" Theon was forced to comply, especially with all these people present. "Bow your head." Soon after his nephew moved his head, Aeron dunked it into the water.

In mere moments, Theon fought his way out of his uncle's hold and came out when trying to snatch a breath. Yet he was caught once more with the Drowned Priest all but glaring into his eyes. "Have courage. We came from the sea, and to the sea we must return. Open your mouth and drink deep of our god's blessing. Fill your lungs with water, so that you may die and be reborn. It does no good to fight it."

Without ceremony, Aeron shoved his nephew back into the water and kept him in there.

"Theon of the House Greyjoy, let this day consecrate your faith to the Drowned God. Be born again from the sea as you were. Bless him with salt. Bless him with stone. Bless him with steel. What is dead may never die. But rises again, harder and stronger."

Throughout this baptism, Theon struggled. He kicked and thrashed. He didn't hear a damn thing of what his uncle was saying, given he was literally fighting for his very life. His lungs burned and cried for air.

His faith with the Drowned God was weak. It was lost. No, it was rather misplaced.

In his youth, he was a believer of his people's religion. He did what practices he could for his age as he'd do the proper ones once old enough. Yet he was taken away due to his father's foolish rebellion.

Upon being a ward of the North, Theon tried what he could to practice his people's faith. He tried what he could to remain loyal to the Drowned God, even if it was in lesser measures.

Sadly, he found something else.

Not a faith that revolved around death, like of the Ironborn. No, he found one revolving for life. He sought it every time he fought against the Heartless and sought to do so beyond them. And it wasn't just for his life anymore. He saw firsthand what these dark creatures could do to those they caught within their claws. Theon's new faith meant he was fighting for more than just himself. It was for Robb, for Bran, Rickon, the Starks who took him in and the North that stands as his true home.

And now it may soon result in his demise as a result.

When Theon ceased his movements, Aeron pulled his nephew out of the water who was motionless for the briefest of moments before coughing up seawater.

There was a hint of satisfaction laced with disappointment at his nephew's breath. "Rise, Theon. For you have now returned to us."

As he was regaining his composure, Theon glared at the Damphair.

He wanted to say something back to him, but couldn't. Not here and now.

He may be forced back into the faith of the Drowned God, but he wanted no part of it.

Would they think he'd just forget? Forget the ridicule everyone else was giving him since his return. The scorn for being raised by wolves and not by kraken. Have it all washed away like the tide and think nothing more of it?

No. He would still remember. All of it.

In truth, the Ironborn already had him weighed. He'd been measured. And he'd been found wanting.

Even though he was an Ironborn at birth, he was a Northerner at heart. There was no way to change that now.

He didn't wait any further in the water as he got up onto his feet and left. He ignored Asha, who sought to say something to him.

With a frown on her face, Asha approaches Aeron Damphair while momentarily focusing her sights on her father's drifting casket.

"I'm going to find out who killed my father. It was no accident how he drowned." Says Asha. "I'm going to feed them to the sharks while they live. I swear it by the Salt Throne."

Her uncle merely gives her a look. "The Salt Throne is not yours to swear upon, not unless the kingsmoot chooses you."

"My father would have wanted me to rule."

"Your father does not get to choose. The law is clear." The Drowned Man sternly says. "Perhaps you'll win. Perhaps you'll be the first woman in history to rule the Ironborn. Or perhaps not."

With this reminder, Asha had to begin preparations for what's to come in deciding the future of the Iron Islands.

The other Ironborn lords will arrive and assemble to see who will now lead them as their new king.

And Theon could only wait for any chance he may have to escape this shithole.

-End Chapter-

AN:

This entry was pretty good on how it turned out, I believe.

This is pretty much the last chapter I'll do for this story for the year. It would be an absolute surprise if I somehow made another before New Years, which is unlikely.

FMW: Been waiting on getting to write scenes for Axel and Kairi, so hooray for this one. Merry Christmas and Happy New Years everyone. Until next time.

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